


Psychosomatic

by JulianObviouslyLovesToad



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Past Drug Use, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, mild sexism, possible suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianObviouslyLovesToad/pseuds/JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toad secretes a psychedelic drug when he sweats. Sabretooth becomes addicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own X-Men.
> 
> This chapter contains self-esteem issues and unwanted physical contact.

Mortimer had always been patient. Until recently, that is. Having literally nothing to do was grating on his already-frayed nerves.

"Quit grinding your teeth. It's pissing me off," came the deep rumble behind him.

Toad's jaw seized up. Of course Sabretooth would have something to say about the way he coped with being in a cramped little cell. A tiny, plain, two-by-two thing with- wait, they were in America. Americans used imperial units. So six feet by six feet, maybe a little more. Toad paced the length of the length of the cell door, which was less a door and more of a gate of bars made of some sort of plasma or something of the like, and found the cell to be just over the length of seven of his feet. Sabretooth didn't move when Mortimer came dangerously close to stepping on his pants leg.

"Sit down," Sabretooth growled. Mortimer's head snapped over in Victor's direction, giving the other an incredulous look.

The furry bastard took up most of the cell just by sitting in the corner. It didn't help matters that they had to carefully avoid the bars if they wanted to go un-singed. Toad had a small, black mark on his left palm that proved that much. He had to fight his subservient nature not to just drop to his haunches and look to the older man for his next order. It was something he'd been trying to break himself of in recent weeks.

The floor was covered in dust, though there was no logical reason it should be, Toad figured. It was the fine, soft and powdery kind of dust that accumulates over months of non-use. Like the books in the library at the orphanage. Fuck. It also seemed to cling to the walls and ceiling, miraculously stopping, go figure, just before the plasma bars. The floors outside were clean, from what he could see and what he had seen on the way in, like they were swept every hour. Which they weren't. They'd been locked up in the cell for a little over three hours, and they had yet to see anyone. No guards, no food, no other prisoners.

Victor made a noise somewhere between a snort and a snarl; his version of a scoff, mocking Mortimer for not following his orders. Their eyes met and they stared each other down. Sabretooth looked bored and mildly irritated, which, in Mortimer's opinion was a dramatic improvement over his usual attitude that shifted between two extremes- amused by others' misfortune and homicidal rage.

A thousand thoughts whirled through his mind, many of which he had no desire to bring to light as they crept along the edges of his conscious thought, giving the smaller man the set up for a brilliant headache. With a huff, he broke the staring contest and stepped over Victor's outstretched leg, curling himself up in the corner and finally, much to the other's relief, sitting. Toad figured it would only help to inflate Sabretooth's undeserved ego, but obeyed nonetheless.

With his feet situated under his body to spring up, should he need to, he leaned over his legs, wrapping his arms around them, one hand scratching nervously at the opposite arm. To take away some of the ache caused by the positioning of his legs-drawn in close, pressed together- he leaned his shoulder on the far wall, away from the doors. He would have rested his head on the wall as well, but the fact that his hair had somehow remained clean throughout the scuffle and being dragged in by the guards kept him from letting the cobwebs muck it up. His hair had really started to shine after his recent investment in a bottle of conditioner.

It felt good to be at least somewhat presentable, he reasoned to himself when he'd gotten a strange look and a wrinkled nose from the cashier. It probably had more to do with the fact that he was a mutant and less to so with the fact that he was buying women's products or his smell, the smell that he'd been working to contain recently, thankyouverymuch.

It wasn't a very easy task, this being presentable. He found that most soaps irritated his skin, causing it to break out or dry up, crack open and bleed. Liquid soaps were a bit easier, but very few brands were gentle enough for his skin.

He hadn't the courage to purchase soaps for infants, so he settled with those for humans with skin conditions. Eczema was a common name splashed across labels carelessly, and he did a little research into the condition. If anything made him feel a pang of remorse for humans, it was those suffering with Eczema and Psoriasis. Though he bounced back and forth between 'that's unfortunate' and 'feel my pain'.

He absently played with his hair as he briefly thought about how half-cocked this plan was, but he'd gone with it without saying a word after the highest praise he'd ever gotten from Magneto; 'You don't smell like a rubbish bin today'. No, in fact he smelled like city rain- mildly acidic, but still refreshing.

"-on yer period?"

"Wot?" He was startled into letting his accent slip, raising his head to look at the blonde.

"Ya been pretty moody lately," Victor clarified. "Usually the only thing I get from you is the stench of despair."

Toad tried to size up the look on the other's face, but found him strangely hard to read for once. Sabretooth usually wore his emotions on his sleeve, very caustic and explosive. But not then. He seemed almost passive. Almost. More like bored. Like he wasn't taking any pleasure from Mortimer's suffering, which was something he was known to do.

"So?" Toad asked, twirling a lock of hair around a finger, looking away from the beastly man. Seriously, putting a man who was over two meters tall in a two meter cell was cruel. Especially with another person.

"Just making conversation," Victor said with a heave of one broad shoulder, a shrug.

"Well, don't."

That earned Mortimer a snarl, which he was glad for. It meant the man he knew was back. Though, at the same time, it terrified him. He had nowhere to run. Even if he hopped up to the ceiling, Victor could just reach up and grab him and tear him limb from limb at his leisure.

"Just because you've got your stink under control, it doesn't make you hot shit now."

Mortimer's eyes widened briefly, then he hung his head. "No shit?" he muttered, though there was no real venom in his voice. His chin lay between his knees that pressed into either cheek. He heard Sabretooth move, but didn't look up.

He did, however, yelp when his arm was taken in a too-rough grip and he was pulled over Sabretooth's lap.

"The hell?" Mortimer groused, trying to pull his arm free of the other's grip. To no avail, of course. The blonde seemed to just watch him struggle for a moment, the prick. He got a strange look from the older man when he gave up and sagged into himself. He let his free arm rest in his lap, his knees and ankles bent awkwardly to keep from being pushed against the wall. His behind hovered in the space between Victor's thighs, his side slumped against the broad chest.

"The fuck ever," Mortimer mumbled. "It's not like I have anywhere to go. Do your worst."

"I'm not gonna rape you, if that's what yer thinkin'," Victor growled, releasing his tiny captive's arm.

"Course not," Toad mumbled, following it up with a self-depreciating bubble of laughter, "I know taking care of myself doesn't suddenly make me attractive." He used his free arm to support himself on the other side of Victor, sweaty palm sticky with dust.

He flinched when he heard a slightly quieter version of Sabertooth's roar, but didn't fight when he was seized by his biceps and turned to face the man. He let his legs go limp, his torso turning awkwardly until one leg had to follow suit, his knee digging into Victor's stomach in a way that couldn't be comfortable. When he turned his head away, his hair fell over his face.

"Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Sabretooth asked- no, accused.

Mortimer stared at the floor, lips pursed. His face burned with shame, but he stayed silent for a long moment. He didn't dare raise his eyes when he spoke; "I stopped grinding my teeth and I sat down. What more do you want?"

"How about for you to stop being a moody bitch?"

"Yes, I'll get right on changing my personality for you," Toad grumbled, glaring half-heartedly.

Victor huffed a short-lived growl and pulled Mortimer close to take a good, long breath, inhaling, tasting his scent. The younger man tensed, his heart going wild when a thick, broad, perfectly fitting and almost uncomfortably textured tongue swiped between his neck and shoulder. He tried to pull away, unintentionally exposing more to the other, the wide neck of the clothing they were forced into sliding down while he struggled.

Sabretooth held him in place, both burly arms around Toad's torso and arms. The younger man's skin left a pleasant tingle on his tongue, so he swiped it over the flesh again. And again.

"I thought you weren't going to rape me," Mortimer said lowly when teeth graze the flesh the feral man had been suckling. A spark of arousal made him tingle in odd places, but Toad managed to stomp it down under a wave of disappointment. Being lied to. Again. He quit struggling and occupied his mind with mundane thoughts, like wondering if he has enough money stashed away to treat himself to a decent meal. Maybe he'll make himself some toad-in-the-hole and carrot cake. The thought made him smirk until he felt the claws of one of Sabretooth's hand digging into his back.

He hissed and pulled back, but it didn't stop two of the nails from leaving angry red welts in their wake, though Victor loosened his grip. Mortimer sat back, perched precariously on Sabretooth's knees, and he noticed that- oh. Oh! Victor's pupils are dilated and he's grinning, but it's not his usual tight-lipped, feral grin that makes you truly feel like a tiny woodland creature. It was more loose, more unguarded, less terrifying and almost sexy. Almost.

The fucker was getting high off of his sweat!

Victor's reflexes had dulled just enough for Mortimer to get his feet under himself and shove off, attaching himself to the dusty ceiling, mildly surprised that he stuck.

"Asshole," he accused, cheeks tinged with a blush.

Sabretooth's grin returned to its feral, terrifying state, and he adjusted his half-hard dick before splaying out one leg and bending the other to rest his elbow on it. "That's a pretty neat trick," the older man nearly purred.

"Eat a dick."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains unwanted physical contact.

It had been two weeks since the incident with Sabretooth in the cell. The plan had gone off almost as well as planned, save for the fact that it seemed like Magneto had been planning on leaving him behind. Again. That must've been the, what, fourth, maybe fifth time he's done that? Mortimer wondered to himself as he threw the towel that had been around his neck over a wheeled chair.

Even though the man seemingly tried to get rid of him at every turn, he found himself always being accepted back onto the team whenever he got out or, occasionally, rescued. The most recent adventure had Sabretooth grabbing him by the back of his shirt and dragging him along.

Mortimer stretched his arms over his head as he let his mind wander. They were holed up in some small building that had very likely been a place for physical therapy, judging by the equipment they found upon taking over the place. There were couches, chairs, medical beds, a couple of cots, a broken elliptical and one still-working treadmill, though it was a fossil of a thing. It served its purpose, though, as Toad had worked up a decent sweat.

He debated taking a nap before getting a shower, leaning over the medical bed he'd moved to the corner of the room to close off the tiny space in which he'd piled pillows. The corner was very comfortable, and well-hidden should someone come in the room while he was asleep. The more he thought about pillows and sleep, the better that idea sounded.

Heavy, booted footfalls sounded in the hallway and Toad tensed. His door was still open. Freddy was asleep and the brat seemed to always run, so that left only one member of the team that was stationed at the center. Sabretooth.

"Hey," said team member growled from the doorway.

"What?" Mortimer shot back, turning around. He drew in a sharp breath, finding the man right behind him. The blonde made a soft growling noise and leaned in close. Mortimer jumped back and tripped over the chair, making the other laugh as he cursed and backed up against the wall, glaring.

"Jumpy little shit," Victor teased. "Beer?" he offered, throwing down a nearly empty cardboard twenty-four pack between them.

Mortimer continued to glare, his eyes briefly flitting to the box, then back up at Sabretooth. "What do you want?" the brunette bit out.

"Saw you on the treadmill," the bigger man said conversationally, tipping his beer back as soon as the words left his lips. He chugged the rest of the bitter liquid and threw the can over his shoulder. It clanked against the wall and made other offensive noises on the floor until it came to a stop.

Mortimer raised a brow and parted his lips. He let his tongue pass over them as he waited for a response.

"You want the rest of this shit?" Victor asked, kicking the box over to Mortimer. Peering in, he saw that there were three left.

"How long have you had this?" Mortimer finally found his voice.

"A few hours," Sabretooth said with a grin, taking a couple long strides to crouch by the other's feet. Even from a few feet, Mortimer could smell the alcohol on him. He should be pissed. Wasted. But he's no more than buzzed. "It doesn't do shit," the blonde answered the puzzled look on the other's features. "But you know what does?" He gave the other a brilliant grin, sharp teeth glinting in the fluorescent lighting.

"Enlighten me."

"You," Victor supplied, grabbing the other's ankle and pulling him toward him. "It's your sweat." He straddled the younger man, knees on either side of his hips, moving his hands to support himself and keep Mortimer pinned. To his surprise, Toad didn't even struggle, though his glare wavered for a moment, it quickly fell back in place.

When Sabretooth leaned down for a taste of the other's throat, he was pleasantly surprised by the way Mortimer closed his eyes and tilted his head back. There was fear and anger radiating off of the smaller frame, but he was resigned to his fate. Victor nearly purred as he licked at the offered flesh, sensation already flickering to life in his nerve-endings. Once the entire expanse of delicate neck shined with spit rather than sweat, he moved on to other places, gently, in his mind, lifting the other's arms and pinning them to the wall with one thick-fingered hand.

Toad gasped when the tongue moved further down, trailing between the lean muscles of his chest and over to one armpit. He squirmed at the tickling sensation, grimacing at how tightly his brow was scrunched together, eyes aching from how tightly clamped shut they were. Mortimer whimpered as the other nibbled his way over sensitive ribs. He swiped his tongue over the flesh one last time before sitting back, a low rumble in his throat.

Several minutes passed before either of them so much as spoke.

"D'ya think I'm a rapist, kid?" Sabretooth asked, opening dilated eyes to look down at the other, who was then squirming in an attempt to get out of his grip.

The question had rudely taken him out of his fantasy, bringing Mortimer back to reality. The man on top of him wasn't Wanda, wasn't even some strange woman or man he'd met on the street with a weird green skin or mutant fetish, but a member of his own team who could snap him in two with very little effort. The fact that Victor had long blonde hair or gorgeous lips didn't take away from the fact that the man himself, his personality, was terrifying, and that was certainly a boner-killer. Toad did, quite frankly, think that Sabretooth could already be a rapist, or wouldn't put it past him to just take what he wants. However, he settled on a slightly less accusatory;

"Why does what I think matter?"

"Just curious," the blonde said, licking his lips right after. He pushed Mortimer's hair out of his eyes and laved his tongue over his forehead and hairline. He moved down a bit, licking from his jaw, up to his temple, molding his pliable tongue to the curves of his captive's face. "I'm not, but I have to wonder how much you'd sweat, and what your," he paused briefly, a lazy grin splitting his features, "other fluids might do. You could probably use a good fuckin' anyway, you tight-ass.

"No matter what you, or anyone else, might think, I'm not the type to force my dick on someone who don't want it." His lopsided grin seemed out of place with the statement, and Mortimer frowned deeply.

After a moment of wondering just why the fuck Sabretooth would say something like that, Mortimer took advantage of the other's inebriated state and wriggled his lower half out from under the other. The odd way his hips bent allowed him to get his feet on the other's chest and push with all his might.

Victor fell back and just lay on the floor for a moment, dazed. His legs were spread and the tent in his jeans was obvious and downright embarrassing for Toad.

"Get. Out."

Toad leapt up on top of the cabinets that lined one wall, hissing at the other. He wiped the dust and sweat from his hands on his pants legs, his bare back becoming coated in cobwebs as it brushed the ceiling. A shower was definitely in his near future, Mortimer decided.

With a throaty chuckle, Victor hauled himself to his feet. Swaying a bit, he leaned over and grabbed the towel that had been knocked to the floor. He took a deep breath of its scent and growled, smirking over it at his skittish ally. He turned and left the room, bracing himself on the wall and grinning like a loon.

After ten minutes of warily glaring at the doorway, Toad eased himself down from the cabinets and went looking for another towel so he could shower.

After which, he felt rather pleasant, letting his hair air dry as he sat about organizing the room he had temporarily taken as his own to his liking. A few minutes in, he stopped his 'embarrassing' humming as something wet slapped on the tiled floor. After watching the doorway for a few seconds, he moved to investigate. He picked up the towel, very likely his from earlier, and his mouth fell open. He ran to the doorway, sticking out his head and arm, shaking the water dampened, semen-stained towel.

"This is fuckin' disgusting!" he accused and was met only with laughter from further down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

It was really stupid, Mortimer thought, keeping the tabs from the beers Sabretooth had given him. He kept them in his shoe, so no one knew but he, though he chastised himself for it on a daily basis. It wasn't like they were a gift, he told himself when he tried to convince himself to throw them out. They were a bribe. Or Sabretooth's trash, but more likely than that, a bribe.

He had drank the beer, gotten a mite warm and fuzzy, and fell into a dreamless, nightmareless sleep, curled up in the corner. He had surprised himself by not changing rooms the next day, not that he believed it would have kept Sabretooth away. No, he thought, the bastard would just track him down if he wanted to molest him again for another high.

He hadn't seen Sabretooth for two days, the last time being when he cornered him in his own room and licked him inappropriately. He hadn't gotten back on the treadmill for those days, either, figuring the smell of his sweat would entice the other.

It was a sore irritation that he had worked so hard to lose the weight, but couldn't make an effort to maintain his physique unless he wanted that tongue all over him again. The thought made him shiver in both excitement and repulsion.

Mortimer started to wonder, holed up in his pillow-fort, if he liked being miserable, if he got some sort of psychological benefit from putting himself in these situations over and over. He couldn't see one, other than the security of having an ally or two to be awake while he slept. He thought for a moment that it might be a sexual thing, fist clenched in one of the pillowcases, adamantly refusing to bring it to his chest and wrap his arms around it. He certainly did seem to develop feelings for those who couldn't care less about him.

His thoughts wound up on trying to decide if he found Sabretooth attractive or not, as one sharp-nailed hand found his opposite arm and raked at an itch he always had when something made him nervous. Thinking about Sabretooth in that way was enough to make anyone nervous.

He spent an hour trying to convince himself that there was no universe in which that man could be attractive. He was as hairy as an ape, and the body-hair would probably scratch against and irritate his already sensitive skin. He was huge, tall and thick- dwarfed Mortimer, and that made him jealous, not aroused. His tongue had felt like wet sandpaper against his skin. His breath smelled bad, though Toad supposed he couldn't speak better of his own. The long, blonde hair was a plus - when it wasn't tangled and matted from whatever else it was Sabretooth did.

He didn't even want to think about the other's distinct lack of a personality.

He stretched his arms out and yawned, a painful spasm rocking his body when he flinched at the touch of paper against his arm. He looked up at the surface of the medical bed to find a bag from a fast-food joint resting on the end closest to him, and Sabretooth grinning down at him.

"Christ!" he gasped, and glared at the intruder.

"Not very perceptive, are ya?" Victor asked, all feral smiles.

"I was half asleep!" Mortimer defended himself. "Asshole."

"Yeah? Well, this 'asshole' brought you food." Sabretooth then proceeded to push the bag over the edge of the bed.

Mortimer jumped again when it wound up in his lap, staring at it as if it had insulted his mother, if he'd cared about the woman, and listened to Sabretooth laugh. He didn't dare look up because he felt a blush rising to his cheeks. Mortified, he slowly lifted and opened the bag, examining its contents; two cheeseburgers. He finally glanced over the bed when he felt he had gotten his embarrassing reaction under control, and found that Sabretooth was gone. He got to his feet to look around the room and make sure the other wasn't hiding somewhere to startle him while he ate and make him choke to death. He even hopped over the bed and went to look out in the hall.

Once satisfied that Victor was gone, he sat the bag back on the bed and stared at it, certain the other giving him food had to mean something. Maybe the fatty foods were an incentive to get him back on the treadmill, he thought, because there was no way Sabretooth cared if he ate or not. Hell, Freddy didn't even care that much and they sort of got along.

He ended up grabbing the bag and walking out of the room. He roamed the halls, looking for Sabretooth, finding him watching TV in the waiting room with a soda in hand. Mortimer briefly wondered how this place still had electricity, or cable for that matter, but put it out of his mind for the time being. He threw the bag at Sabretooth, earning himself a grunt and a glare.

"I don't want your charity."

"It ain't charity. My eyes were bigger than my stomach. No need to waste shit," Victor said, setting the bag aside.

Toad was frankly stunned that the other didn't fly into a blind rage.

"Fatass don't need it and Speedy didn't want it. I don't want it, either." He wasn't looking at Mortimer as he spoke; rather he was watching some press conference with a sneer.

Toad recognized Senator Kelly on the television and flicked his tongue out to turn it off.

"I was watching that," Sabretooth griped.

"It's all bullshit. You're just going ta get all pissed off and go on another rampage. That doesn't help anyone."

"I enjoy it."

"You're the only one."

"Don't that make it worth it?"

Mortimer simply sighed in response.

"Anyway, if you just came out here to bitch at me about my moral choices, you can take your food and, as you say, 'piss off'."

"Your food," Mortimer corrected.

"Eat the food or I'll shove it down your throat," came a growled threat, Sabretooth suddenly sitting up.

Mortimer narrowed his eyes. "Make me."

There was a brief scuffle that ended in a familiar position- Sabretooth perched on top of Toad, only then he held the other by the throat. He reached behind himself to grab the bag and tore open one of the burgers with one clawed hand. He pushed it against green lips, snarling, demanding the other open his mouth. With condiments smeared all over his face, Mortimer finally relented.

"Alright, alright! Jesus Christ, I'll eat the fucking burger!"

Sabretooth glared down at him for a moment before he too relented, handing over the burger before he released the other's throat. He watched Toad take, chew and swallow a few bites before he got off of him entirely.

Mortimer ate, hoping the other could sense his shame and anger, glaring at the floor as he did so.

Without another word, Sabretooth left, slamming the already-rickety door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been seven unbearably long days since the group still at the therapy center had seen hide or hair of Sabretooth, and while Pietro's lips got looser with his father's favorite pet gone, it made Mortimer nervous. The blonde had left out of anger, of his own volition, not for some mission. At least, that's what Mortimer assumed, though he couldn't be sure.

He wondered, as he cleaned, how Magneto got ahold of Sabretooth. He'd personally witnessed the destruction of two cellphones at Sabretooth's hands. After the fourth or fifth, he'd heard, the boss man stopped giving the delicate devices to the brute. Pietro was the one with the contact now, and he just loved to brag about it, putting his daddy issues on full display for everyone.

As he tied up garbage bags to throw in the dumpster out back, Toad imagined Sabretooth in the forests. His blonde hair bouncing and flowing about his shoulders as he ran, eventually dropping to all fours. Chasing a scent on a brisk breeze, turning his boxy face into it to catch the full brunt of the fear of whatever critter he was pursuing. How Sabretooth would grin and nearly purr as the breeze cooled the tiny bit of sweat that had gathered on his forehead. He briefly wondered if the feral man would shed his clothes and gallivant about the forest naked, and not even bother to cook whatever food he nabbed. Probably.

Toad was both disgusted by and jealous of the fact that Sabretooth seemed to find himself above the desire to be socially acceptable, that he wasn't bound by anyone's rules. He was truly free. Almost.

The realization came with a snort, and he dug his nails into the plastic of one bag, trying to keep ahold of it while carrying two others. Pietro poked his head out of his room and gave Toad a grin. He disappeared briefly and returned, throwing a nearly full, hastily tied off bag in his direction.

"Since you're already headed out, you can take my trash, too. Thanks."

With a roll of his eyes and a grunt, he took the brat's trash in hand as well, mildly surprised that the young man bagged it up himself. Small miracles, he supposed, and delved back into his fantasies of a wild Sabretooth.

It wasn't until he started cooking dinner that night, pleased with himself that he'd, with a little- very little- help from the others, gotten the place looking halfway decent, that Sabretooth showed up. Hotdogs were heating in a coffee pot, buns were warming in a small toaster oven, a few bags of chips lined the counter on which the microwave containing thawing, prepackaged frozen carrots sat, and Sabretooth stood behind him. Toad did his best to ignore the older man, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and giving him away. He didn't jump at the heavy footfalls telling him exactly where Sabretooth was moving to, and he certainly didn't blush when fingers awkwardly pushed- rather, pulled, since Victor was behind him- his bangs out if his face, tracing his hairline and gathering up the bit of sweat that had beaded there. Under no circumstances did he have any sort of reaction, he told himself, to the positively obscene sounds of Sabretooth sucking on his own fingers, damp with Mortimer's sweat.

"Leave that crap for Speedy and Fatass. I got something better," the blonde purred in his ear. A shiver wracked Mortimer, keeping him from complaining when Sabretooth wiped his spit-slick fingers on the back of his shirt.

"What is it?" Mortimer asked when he found his voice, internally kicking himself for how small and meek it sounded.

"You'll just have to see," Victor said, pulling away.

Mortimer stood quickly, turning to follow a retreating blonde giant. He sighed and picked up his pace, nearly jogging to follow long, confident strides. Sabretooth stopped in front of the door to the room he claimed as his own and looked at Toad expectantly.

"You should let them know their food is ready," he said, opening the chip bag, enjoying the fresh puff of scent before eating a small handful.

Mortimer's shoulders sagged for a moment and he backtracked to Pietro's door. He slammed his palm on the wood a few times before raising his voice a bit to announce that the food was cooked and waiting.

He almost wanted to stand there and wait for Pietro to confirm that he'd heard, but Sabretooth urged him back to him with a low and impatient 'c'mon'. He thought about dragging his heels to irritate the blonde, but the low growl from Victor's throat had him hurrying instead. Mortimer's heart leapt to his throat when Sabretooth opened the door, motioning with the hand that held the bag of chips for the brunette to enter first.

He imagined what horrors awaited him in that room.

Mortimer felt silly for expecting something other than the same white walls and cabinets every other room had. Like Sabretooth's personality alone would change the color of the walls to a deep crimson or a disgusting off-yellow, maybe even a rich amber with bubbles. He also expected the walls and scratchy carpeting to be torn up, possibly from the other raging or even growing bored and just peeling paint off and carpet up to see what was underneath. However, the room was normal. Sure, the mattresses torn from two different cots were thrown on the floor together and there were beer cans on every available surface, but it wasn't different. Wasn't scary like he was entering a torture chamber.

To his shame, Mortimer did jump a bit when Victor closed the door behind him. The older man moved around the frozen Toad with such grace that wasn't expected of him outside of battle, outside of the hunt. He sat down on the makeshift bed in one fluid motion, tossing the bag of chips next to what looked like a pile of steak strips on a clump of paper towels.

"'Mere, it ain't gonna eat itself," Sabretooth said, plucking one of the chunks of meat from the pile with a clawed finger and thumb. He put it in his mouth and sucked the juices from his fingers. Mortimer looked elsewhere as he walked up.

He sat on the floor next to the mattress, curling his legs up under himself. He eyed the meat, trying to figure out what it was with its burnt edges and dripping with a reddish-purple tinted sauce.

"It's deer," Sabretooth deadpanned, as if he was annoyed that the other didn't know. "Try it."

Mortimer looked up at Sabretooth for a moment, trying to figure out just what his game was. He didn't seem devious, so it couldn't be drugged. He had a notoriously bad poker face, always grinning. Toad couldn't entirely rule out the possibility of it being poisoned, though, even if the other did take a bite. He knew many poisons wouldn't affect the other.

Sabretooth's neutral expression became a frown, glaring back at Mortimer, who wasn't moving to try the food.

"Just fucking try it. If you don't like it, you can go eat that shit you made."

Mortimer broke eye contact, his shoulders hunching. He reached out toward the paper towel plate, flinching when Sabretooth grabbed another strip and plunked it in his mouth. The blonde snorted at how jumpy the other was. Finding a small piece, Toad picked it up and brought it to his lips. He didn't put it in his mouth then. He sniffed it cautiously. Sabretooth grunted in an attempt not to laugh that failed when Mortimer parted his lips at the earthy aroma of the morsel. Embarrassed, he shoved the piece in his mouth and unconsciously covered his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

Mortimer's eyes widened a fraction at the taste. The sweet, fruity sauce took away from the fact that the meat was burnt. Sabretooth really knew how to cook, he realized, just not how long to leave the meat over the heat.

"It's good," he admitted quietly. He wouldn't have gone with something so fruity, Mortimer thought. Perhaps Italian salad dressing to speed the process along. But, somehow, the bitter-sweet flavor offset how gamey venison could be.

"Then eat. Got plenty more," Sabretooth said, reaching to the far side of the mattresses to retrieve a couple of unopened beers. He passed one to Mortimer, who muttered a quiet 'thanks', and grunted in response.

The two ate and sipped beer in relatively comfortable silence, Mortimer growing more comfortable with each beer he took in, Sabretooth supplying another every time his can emptied. The blonde said nothing of the way Toad took the tab from each one and slipped it into his shoe between bites of cranberry and wild onion flavored meat.

Around the time he finished his fifth beer, Mortimer realized he was getting a slight buzz, becoming far too comfortable in the presence of someone who could, and would, tear him to shreds at the slightest provocation. He declined a sixth that was held out to him, or tried to, but Sabretooth popped the tab and sat it next to him on the brown and tan patterned carpet anyway.

"Trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?" Mortimer teased, running the pad of his right pointer finger over a drop of misplaced liquid on the gleaming silver top of the can. Sabretooth snorted.

"Do I need to get you drunk to do that?" Victor teased back.

Toad frowned. What could one more hurt? After another bite from the seemingly endless pile of meat, he picked up the can and took a long pull.

"Maybe I should get you drunk. You'd be amusing. I bet you're the table-dancing type."

Toad rolled his eyes at the comment. "Hardly. I'm a depressed drunk." The words were so plainly stated, they made Sabretooth cock his head curiously. Mortimer then stuffed his mouth full of meat so he wouldn't have to answer any question the other asked in response to his admission right away.

"I can see that too," Sabretooth said, reaching into the chip bag.

He looked so comfortable in his own skin, Mortimer noticed, in only a white wife-beater, stained with varying shades of red, brown and yellow, and blue jeans worn thin on one knee. He tried to pick out what the individual stains were as he sipped the beer to wash down stubborn flakes of meat and onion. A thick, ruddy brown one near the neck of the shirt was probably blood. Maybe he'd gotten a cut and used the shirt to wipe away the oozing liquid as the wound was already sealing. Near the middle of the shirt were dusty, smudged hand prints, perhaps from wiping the dirt from his hands while chasing their very meal. Barely visible dribbles of beer stains marred the shirt over his left pectoral, and unidentified smears near the bottom caught Mortimer's attention.

Sabretooth watched the other's eyes roam his torso, adding another stain as he wiped his hand on his shirt after eating a handful of chips. "Grease," he explained as Mortimer's eyes lingered along the bottom of his shirt. Mortimer hummed lowly in response. He'd forgotten that the other had a motorcycle.

The meat pile started growing thin, Sabretooth plucking a piece to suck on suggestively every once in a while as Mortimer tried not to eat like a starved man. He had already had enough, but a feast so rarely presented itself.

They both reached for the last piece and Mortimer flinched back violently. With a scoff, Sabretooth turned his hand palm up, offering the last piece. Toad put his hands on the carpeted floor between his legs and refused to look up.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"I have more," Sabretooth said, ignoring the apology completely. Mortimer just shook his head, blinking a bit in an effort to clear up the dizziness the motion caused. "Here," he said. Mortimer still refused to look up.

He gasped when thick fingers fisted in his hair and pulled his head back, another hand shoving the sliver of meat between his parted lips. He tried to fight it, but a paw held his mouth firmly closed. He couldn't use his tongue if he wanted to, and Sabretooth was in prime position to snap his neck should he try, so he carefully chewed the meat, though his heart was in his throat again, and swallowed.

"Good," Sabretooth purred, pulling him flush against his body. He moved his hands, pushing the messy paper towels out of the way so he could lay down with Mortimer's back to his chest. One arm cradled his head, the other rested on his hip.

Mortimer bit back a whimper when a rough tongue found the back of his neck. He was licked repeatedly, that tongue mapping out his hairline, the bump of his spine, under his ear and the parts of his jaw it could reach. Mortimer tried, in vain, to stop trembling and get his breathing under control when Sabretooth caressed his full belly.

"You ate so much I can feel how swollen your stomach is," Sabretooth said with a grin against the back of Mortimer's neck. He pushed and squeezed on the tiny paunch, kneading it carefully on top of the other's shirt.

"Don't," Mortimer whined, pulling weakly at the hairy arm.

Sabretooth relented, moving his hand back to a sharp hip, tongue resuming its work. After a moment, the blonde took Mortimer's comparatively slender wrist in hand, bending his arm back near uncomfortably, to lick at the sweaty palm. Sabretooth let out a deep, rumbling purr into the moist flesh, and Mortimer could feel the others eyelashes fluttering against his fingertips.

He could get away now, Mortimer reasoned, by gouging Sabretooth's eyes with his sharp nails. But the wounds would probably just heal in a matter of a few hours and Sabretooth would be out for his head. But the feeling of those lashes, probably the only delicate part of the monster of a man behind him, felt so strangely good on his calloused digits.

"Did you know you sweat drugs?"

"Yeah," Toad answered, curling his fingers, searching for those eyelashes again. He found closed eyes and pressed lightly on the lids, his nails catching on Sabretooth's brow. He was astonished that the other let him; it was an intimate gesture, one that promised pain, he felt. Sabretooth sighed into his hand, his tongue darting out over Mortimer's wrist.

"How did you find out?" His words were drawn out, already under the influence, it seemed.

Mortimer snorted, and it faded into a quiet sigh. He wondered how Sabretooth would react to knowing how he was held captive as a youth, back when his skin was still a normal color, being poked and prodded and tested. And violated. Swabs between his thighs, the crack of his ass, his arm pits- his sweat gathered and run through tests on lab rats, on other mutants. He probably wouldn't react. Not outwardly, anyway. Though his capture, even as a child, would only reinforce the thoughts he was almost sure the older man had of him being a weakling.

"Don't want to talk about it," was all he said.

"Bad memories?"

"Yeah."

Sabretooth 'mmm'ed into his palm before pulling back and away entirely. Toad sighed at the loss of the first contact with the man he was actually enjoying, and craned his neck to watch the man grab another beer. He sat up as Sabretooth did, watching the other open the can and take a swig.

"You make my mouth dry," Victor said.

And your dick hard, Mortimer added silently, his gaze traveling from the blown pupils and barely there blue irises to the tent in the other's jeans. He'd never been told that his hallucinogenic sweat had the qualities of an aphrodisiac, but he didn't dare even hope that he got someone aroused. He'd learned many years ago that the only people ever attracted to him were freaks, dangerous. He supposed Sabretooth fit those criteria, but being tall and blonde gave him options. Options better than he. Yup, had too much to drink, Mortimer thought.

"I'm gonna go," he said, the silent 'if that's alright' obvious and painful.

"Yeah. Probably got a mess to clean up in the break room," Sabretooth said, one hand wandering down his thigh toward his crotch.

Mortimer groaned. He didn't even want to think about that at the moment. He didn't want to think about anything, really. Toad pulled himself to his feet and watched the other for a moment- lazily stroking himself through his jeans, heat pooled in Mortimer's gut at the sight. He intended to excuse himself before things got any more awkward.

"Thanks for the food."

"No problem."

He let himself out and closed the door behind himself, deciding to get a glass of water and a shower to sober up, his recent thoughts surely indicating that he had no tolerance for alcohol. That it was certainly that and not the fact that Sabretooth taking an interest in him made him feel... Wanted. Wanted, warm, pleasant and terrified. Yes, he thought with a nod to himself; those feelings were definitely caused by the beer.


	5. Chapter 5

Mortimer hissed as he was yanked off the treadmill, struggled as he was pulled back against a broad, hairy, bare chest. He elbowed Sabretooth in the jaw.

"Christ, mate. At least let me finish!"

"'Mate'?" Sabretooth asked with a toothy grin, holding Toad off the ground easily. He suckled at the fresh sweat, holding the other around the middle with one arm, the other taking a hold of the bicep of the arm that clipped him in the face.

"It's an expression," Toad complained, setting his feet on Sabretooth's thighs. He tried to push off, but the other held him firmly.

"I'll let you go in a minute. Why let this go to waste?" was purred in his ear, and Mortimer refused to believe that he shivered. Sabretooth shifted his captive around, pitching him forward a bit so that the other's rear rested against his stomach awkwardly, like he was sitting on a chair that was glued to the wall. Mortimer drew in a staggered breath when Sabretooth's tongue found the flesh between his shoulder blades and licked a solid stripe all the way up to the soft hairs at the base of his skull. He hissed again, clawing at the arm around his midsection. "Stop that," Sabretooth said, giving Mortimer a little shake. "But it is kind of cute when you hiss."

"'Cute'?!" Mortimer near shrieked, his thrashing increasing tenfold. He hooked his feet around Sabretooth's legs and tried to bring him down at the knee, but the blonde was having none of that.

"Would you prefer 'funny'?"

"It's more realistic," Mortimer said with a snort.

"I think it's kind of funny that you still think you're ugly," Sabretooth said, his voice a bit muffled by Mortimer's back. The brunette tried to elbow him with his free arm, couldn't quite reach his head and just stopped.

"Wot?"

"Freckles," Sabretooth purred with an amused chuckle. "Going deaf now, Jumpy?"

"No! You just," Mortimer stopped to consider his words. He let out an irritated grunt as tongue and teeth toyed with the bump of his spine. "In the cell, you said that I'm not hot shit, or whatever." His words petered out into uncertainty.

"'N' I meant it. Didn't think you were the type to see everything so black and white, though. Cute ain't good enough for ya?"

"No man wants to be 'cute'," Mortimer said, practically spitting the last word.

"Tough shit. You've got back freckles and a bowl cut. Automatic qualifiers."

Toad's shoulders sagged and he stopped struggling, hanging limply over the arm holding him up. Sabretooth released the other's bicep to lift him by his neck, slowly, almost tenderly, and turned his face toward him to suck the droplets of sweat from his temple.

"You're on drugs," Mortimer murmured in a small show of defiance.

"The sky is blue. Fingernails grow faster than toenails. My dick is six inches long," Sabretooth said as nonchalantly as if he were rattling off a grocery list.

"That is not something I want to know!" Mortimer nearly shouted, rearing back. He put his feet back on thick thighs and pushed, twisting his upper body as he did so, bracing himself on Sabretooth's shoulder. The other finally let him go, and he fell to the ground, landing with a loud 'fwump'. He pulled his feet under himself and launched his body over the treadmill, putting that between them. Mortimer took a deep breath and held onto the device's grips, glaring over it at the blonde. The grinning, loaded, stunning blonde.

"You sure about that?" Victor teased.

"Yes! Fucking Christ!" Toad threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "Do I just scream 'easy' to you, or something? Like I'll just give it up for anyone who asks because I'm just that desperate?"

Anger turned to fear in a split second as Sabretooth bared his teeth, not grinning, but growling. His movements were slow, but Mortimer was unsure if he could get out of the pissed off mutant's grasp, should he get ahold of him, so he ducked to the side when massive paws reached out for him. Sabretooth gripped the foam-coated handle of the treadmill and bent it, and Mortimer whimpered as if the other was hurting him.

In a way, he was. Mortimer hated running where there were people.

With a snarl, Victor released the warped metal and torn foam, turning to the brunette. He advanced on the smaller male, clenching his fists.

"I've been being nice," he warned.

"So you can get high off of me and fuck me?" Ah, shit, Mortimer thought, stupid mouth. He grimaced when his bare back hit the cold wall, a whimper escaping before he could stop it. "W-wait, wait! I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry, just don't- don't-"

"Forget it. I won't touch you anymore."

Sabretooth slammed the door so hard the frame cracked and one of the hinges broke, leaving the piece hanging, swaying. Toad sunk down to sit on his haunches, raking sharp nails over his scalp, pulling at his hair.

"God dammit," he muttered. He tried not to flinch each time another door was slammed; Sabretooth leaving.

After a minute of silence, Pietro pokes his head in the room.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Lovers' spat?" Pietro teased.

"Piss off, Pietro!"

"Well!" the other said, mock indignantly, putting his hand on his chest. He turned his nose up, fighting off a snicker before running off.

That night, when they were all summoned back to the asteroid, Toad wished he hadn't pissed Sabretooth off.


	6. Chapter 6

Toad was so dizzy that he couldn't tell which way was up. Couldn't remember if he was on the asteroid, in Genosha or on some mission. He could be anywhere, he thought, gripping the toilet bowl, staring at the space between it and the robin's egg blue tiled floor. It seemed so big and obvious, like the toilet bowl has its own purple and black energy field, but that's silly and his stomach rolled again, and he pitched forward. He braced himself on the rim and realized he's sticky, sweating, hair sticking to his forehead and chin. Or maybe it's the acidic vomit dribbling down his chin that has him so sticky.

The one thing he was certain of is that he was miserable, a pitiful mess. He was glad, for a moment when he could actually think, that no one was there to see him like that; his own spittle burning holes in his favorite night shirt, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he begs the toilet water to make it stop because 'god doesn't listen to people like [him]'.

He couldn't remember what he'd done to find himself in that position. Couldn't remember if he was actually sick, or if he'd drunk himself that way or if he'd overdosed on something. Did they jack any painkillers from the last former hospital they'd occupied? His left forearm was torn to shreds by his own nails, so he'd done it himself, then.

He could almost see Magneto's disappointment in his delirium. Those hard, blue eyes and distinguished brow glaring down at him, one lip quirked slightly in a barely restrained display of disgust. He'd give the order, Toad thought, to remove himself from his sight until he was presentable, after giving him a glass of ice water. No- wait, he thought, shaking his head a bit, having to correct himself to keep from falling over. Magneto wouldn't go out of his way to bring him water. He'd point in the direction of the nearest tap.

But there was definitely a glass of water with ice cubes in it next to his leg. Maybe. It could have been another hallucination, like the porcelain bowl's aura. He reached out to touch it, expecting his fingers to pass through it. It nearly tipped over when they didn't.

It would have, had a hand not shot out and caught it. Someone helped him bring it to his lips and the cool water felt so, so good on his burning throat. He couldn't even care that drops escaped the corners of his just-too-wide mouth and dripped off of his chin. He whined when the glass was pulled away, but he supposed he deserved it, getting greedy, gulping water like he was.

"Sip," a gruff voice ordered, and Mortimer nodded weakly in response.

He moaned when he felt water touch his upper lip, letting his head be supported by another familiar hand. Toad couldn't bring himself to care that he was being manhandled, moved into a better position for his burly caretaker to control his water intake. He saw blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and had a good, water-bubbling chuckle at how the grim reaper looked like Sabretooth.

"Just what the fuck is so funny, kid?"

Oh wait- maybe that was the real Sabretooth. There was a long moment before he could think at all, much less of anything to say.

"I thought you weren't touching me," Mortimer said, letting his head lull to the side, something akin to a smirk stretching his lips.

Sabretooth urged Toad back into the position he found him in, sat the half glass on the floor and stood to leave without a word.

"Please don't leave," Mortimer whispered, trying to turn his head toward the door. A wave of dizziness came over him and he slumped back toward the toilet. "Please." He knew he'd hate himself even more later, if that were possible, but he couldn't stop the words he croaked out; "I'm sweating like a whore in church. You can lick me. Just stay, please."

Sabretooth snorted out a sigh and crouched down next to the pitiful brunette, taking the glass of water in hand. As he was assisted in taking small sips of water, Mortimer tried to remember if this was an attempt to kill himself of not. Sabretooth didn't say a word as he pushed the other's hair out of his face.

"Can you help me?"

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" Sabretooth asked, his voice holding only a mild hint of annoyance.

"I mean," Mortimer paused to lick his lips, and tried to swallow, but his throat was dry again, "with something else."

"Do you want help to bed?"

"I want to die," he breathed, reaching out for Sabretooth's other hand.

Out of pure shock, Victor let him take it, watching as the smaller man brought his hand to his throat, weakly pushing on the fingers until they curled around it. Victor wouldn't apply any pressure, and Mortimer tried to push into the strong fingers. He whined a plea to squeeze.

"You need a shower," Sabretooth said, taking his hand from the other's throat. He had no idea what to do with the admission, and had no desire to face any long-dead feelings it may bring back to life, so he ignored it. Toad groaned when he was lifted, letting his forehead fall against Sabretooth's shoulder.

Victor put the lid to the toilet down and eased the clinging dead weight onto it. "Work with me," he said, trying to pull Mortimer's shirt off without tearing it. But he didn't, so Sabretooth took off the shirt one arm at a time, grimacing about how gentle he was being. "You're going to ruin my image, you little shit."

"You don't have to. I manage on my own," Mortimer said, pulling himself to his feet, bracing himself on the sink. "Oh shit, I'm gonna be sick."

Sabretooth let out a brief, irritated growl, and turned to the tub. He adjusted the water, trying to figure out what would be a decent temperature for the other. He went with lukewarm.

"C'mon, let's get this over with."

Mortimer whimpered when a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, trying to stop the hand that reached for his boxers.

"I ain't gonna do anything like that. Just take off your fucking pants, so you can shower," Sabretooth growled, starting to lose his patience. "Jesus," he growled under his breath.

"You're religious?" Toad asked, letting Sabretooth yank his boxers down, trying to help by lifting one leg at a time.

"It's an expression," the blonde said, mocking the way Mortimer had spoken to him the last time they'd met. He threw the undergarment in the corner, frustrated with this stupid, he thought, predicament.

Sabretooth got a little rough when he pulled his naked ally against him, but found himself not caring too much. He leaned over to pull up the device that moves the flow of water to the shower head and shoved Mortimer under it.

The brunette groaned at the sudden moisture, but was soon writhing in near-pleasure as the sweat and other fluids flowed off of him. He clung to Sabretooth's arm, his lashes fluttering as he attempted to keep his eyes open. He wobbled a bit and Victor stepped into the bath to let the other lean on him.

"Your cl- oh-" Mortimer gasps, and then promptly vomits into his own hand. He tried, desperately, to keep the mess to himself, and Sabretooth is momentarily amused that the other's bile is lime green. Then pissed off because his shirt is ruined and- would you look at that- melting in places. "I'm sorry. I can't-"

"Just. Shut. Up," Sabretooth growled, pushing Mortimer into the wall to support himself while he removed his shirt, just shredding it and tossing the slivers of cotton aside. He figured he might as well lose his jeans too, just in case the other had anything left in his stomach. They hit the tiled floor with a wet slap and Mortimer flushed, avoiding looking at the blonde, even when he takes a firm hold of him and starts washing him.

Sabretooth's hands are rough, the motions are rough, but despite that, Toad had never felt so pampered in his entire life. He wanted to communicate the thought, but couldn't, so he let himself be moved and washed, and tried to cooperate. Victor even washed his hair with the right soap.

Afterward, wrapped in a towel while he idly watches Sabretooth dry himself off, Mortimer admits to himself that he feels much better. Physically, at least. He took in the details of Sabretooth's body, watching from under wet hair as the blonde scrubbed a towel over himself, through thick, dirty-blonde chest hair, over a barely-there beer gut, through a forest of light brown pubic hair and over his flaccid length, lifting each leg to the edge of the tub. Toad almost giggled at the furry, toned ass presented to him. Maybe still a little out of it, he thought to himself and nodded.

"You can dry yourself, right?" Sabretooth asked, slinging his towel over his shoulder.

"I'll air-dry," Mortimer answers.

"No, you'll towel dry. I'm putting your ass in bed before I leave."

"Why?" Mortimer asked, looking up.

"Fuck if I know," Victor admits, taking Mortimer's towel from over his shoulders and scrubbing him down with it. He even dried each foot individually, moving the fabric between webbed toes, making Toad snort in an effort not to laugh. "Don't get used to this."

"Wasn't planning on it," was the response. "Wasn't planning on getting used to anything," an even quieter answer. "Wasn't planning on-" Mortimer's eyes widened briefly at the hand over his mouth.

"Now I see why the boss hates you so god damn much," Sabretooth growled, crouched between green legs. "You're so fucking pathetic. Wanting to, maybe trying to off yourself because- what? You're not attractive? Because you don't have a girlfriend? Because no one wants you?

"I've got news for you, you little brat; that's why we're all here. Nobody wants us.

"Fuck, you're not even listening, are you?" Sabretooth asked when he saw how Mortimer's eyes were averted. When lashes fluttered and those too-yellow, hazel eyes looked up at him, the desire to smash the tiny green face in left Victor and he felt the faintest hint of remorse. But it wasn't a strong enough feeling to do anything more than make him angrier. Sabretooth took his hand away and pulled Mortimer to his feet by one bicep. "Get to bed."

Lips parted and Mortimer looked down again, letting himself be led from the bathroom. The covers were thrown back with Sabretooth's free hand, and he pushed the smaller man into the bed. He went to the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and the waste bin, setting both of them within Mortimer's reach.

"Stay with me for a bit?" Mortimer barely got out, just this side of sober, just chemically influenced enough to ask for something he wants. "It- it's nice to pretend for a bit."

"No," Sabretooth spat, glaring down at Toad. "We don't get to pretend," he said, glare unwavering. "I don't care about you. You're just another soldier, cannon fodder. I wouldn't lose any sleep if you died." The realization that those words are lies twisted in his gut like his brother's claws, and he found himself with the need to get away. "Go to sleep. Get up in the morning."

He went back to the bathroom to grab his wet jeans and wrapped a towel around his waist before leaving, without looking back


	7. Chapter 7

Mortimer was unable to meet Victor's gaze for days. He figured he should have been able to, knowing he'd find no pity there, but the stunning purple and gold and red patterned tile he'd noticed a thousand times before was just so fucking fascinating.

Three days after the failed possible suicide attempt- he still wasn't sure if that's even what it was- he went back to the gym. It's the one Sabretooth used; not that he needed to, Mortimer thought with a quiet snort. The man is all muscle and raw power and everything he, Toad, wants to be. He wonders if Sabretooth has ever wanted to change anything about his looks while he sets up a rack of weights.

Mutants he doesn't know come and go and Mortimer keeps on lifting, trying to wear himself out. Nothing on the schedule. Nothing to think about. Nothing to keep his mind from wandering to Sabretooth and death and drugs and the orphanage and-

"Been in here a while?"

Sabretooth.

Toad racked the bar and stared at it. "Maybe. I don't know," he admits, "came in at seven."

"It's nearly nine."

"Oh," smooth, he chastised himself.

"Hungry?"

"Not really."

"Lying sack of shit," Sabretooth groused, getting that much more irritated when Mortimer didn't look up. There's no banter. So Sabretooth filled the silence; "They had a feast tonight." He didn't even wait for the other to respond. "You should have seen Fatass eat. Had a whole damn bird by himself."

The ends of Toad's mouth quirked just a little bit, even as he sat up, hands between his thighs on the bench in front of him.

"That kid could eat someone out of house and home."

"Is everyone a kid to you?"

Sabretooth watched Toad not watching him. Intentionally looking everywhere but the big blonde.

"Yeah. Shit, you're all babies. Even the boss-man," Victor says with a small smirk. "I'm gonna ask you again," he said, walking around to lean on the racked weights, closer to Mortimer. "You hungry?"

"Is 'yes' what you want to hear?"

Brown hair blocked Sabretooth's view of the other's expression, but he was sure it was an unpleasant one. The longest parts of his hair come down to just past his chin. He's growing it out, Sabretooth muses, because of my comment. He feels a little bit of pride, then anger as he returns to the moment at hand.

"I want the truth, you brat," he said, holding one clawed hand up in an impatient gesture.

"I don't know. I don't really feel hunger anymore," Toad said, trying not to shake. He figured taking the pressure off of his overworked arms would help stop the quaking in his shoulders, the occasional pectoral spasm. It didn't.

"Then how do you know you need to eat?" Sabretooth asked, his voice a half growl.

Mortimer flinched when he felt fingers on the back of his neck, and almost missed the question. Too-warm fingers on sensitive, moist skin. When the fingers withdrew, he glanced at Sabretooth through his hair, watching the other lick his fingers clean. "I get headaches," he answered quietly.

Sabretooth scoffed. He leaned over the bar and pressed his lips to the back of the other's neck. He kissed, maybe; it was a harsh, rough thing that would bruise someone without a healing factor- it would probably leave a bruise on Mortimer for a few hours. Then the tongue flicked out, making Mortimer's shivering increase tenfold. The long thing wrapped a quarter of the way around his neck and molded perfectly to every bump and curve of his skin and muscle. Fingers of hands that nearly covered his entire face pressed to his temples, and Toad really, really wanted to see how Sabretooth was positioned. He couldn't be comfortable, leaned over the rack like that.

"Do you have a headache now?" Sabretooth almost snarled against the skin of Mortimer's shoulder.

"No," Mortimer responded breathlessly. How could he, he thought, with meaty, wonderful, hardened fingers caressing him just so.

The fingers moved away, one set at a time, for Victor to suck on them. Mortimer figured he should have been disgusted by spit-slick fingers pressing back to his temples, but he wasn't. He couldn't be, lost in the sensation of the sorriest excuse for a temple massage ever.

"Still need to eat," Sabretooth drawled, face pressed to Mortimer's hair for a moment. "C'mon ya little shit," he said, pulling away. "Fatass was asking about you during dinner, like I would know where you were."

Mortimer groaned at the loss of contact. He blinked a few times. "You found me, didn't you?"

"I guessed. I didn't know you'd be here. I don't care enough to remember your schedule," Sabretooth said, ambling slowly toward the door. The words tasted a little too sweet, admitting that he might care just the slightest bit, but that could also be Toad's sweat, he figured.

The fact that Freddy had asked about him made Mortimer's skin tingle pleasantly. Well, pleasantly in places that Sabretooth hadn't slobbered on. But perhaps there too, in a different way.

"Come here," Sabretooth ordered. "Don't make me move you myself. It won't be a... Pleasant experience."

Toad got to his feet without thinking about how he just followed orders.

"Coming out shirtless?" Victor teased.

Mortimer mumbled under his breath and looked around for the shirt he'd discarded. He slipped it on and it barely held on to his shoulders. It was too big, a relic from before he lost the weight. A glance at the towering blonde showed that he was amused, a little intoxicated, and Mortimer turned his gaze to the floor again. He followed Sabretooth by watching his boots.

He found himself in a dining room; the table still a mess with the remnants of the other's supper. In one place, the dishes had been pushed aside, a few broken from their rough treatment, to clear a space for one solitary plate, a fork and a glass of water.

"Eat," Sabretooth ordered.

Then Mortimer finally looked at him.

He stared, confused, mildly irritated. He searched Sabretooth's face for any sign of what this meant. He told himself not to react to the sweat on his palms, not to wipe it on his shorts, not to clench his fists.

"Believe it or not, it was Fatass' idea. He said someone should take you some food, but fuck it. You're the type who would rather eat at a table like a human, and it's less work for me, so pick up the fork and stuff your face, you skinny little bastard." Sabretooth stuck his pinky in his ear and twisted, scratching, cleaning maybe. His brow was scrunched in mild annoyance and his other hand was in his pocket, but he didn't seem likely to fly into a homicidal rage at the moment.

Mortimer picked at strips of turkey and pierogi and some sort of bun-thing and wondered if it was a holiday. He ate breaded, fried green-beans with a small smile and a quirked brow. Sabretooth seemed content, standing by the sink, so Mortimer just ate. He consumed everything on the plate and downed the glass of water.

When he went to the sink to refill it, Sabretooth leaned over to bury his nose in the soft hairs at the base of Mortimer's skull, under the growing top layer, nudging it up since it was too long to ignore. Mortimer tensed, stopped, leaving the cold water running. The burly blonde was making a purring noise in the back of his throat, one hand coming to rest on Mortimer's hip.

"Sa~bretooth," Toad whispered, flushing at the crack in his voice.

"Shh," Victor hissed, still nuzzling. "I must be out of my mind," is what Mortimer thought Victor said, but wasn't too sure, as the other's words were just a growled garble of consonants.

Shaky green digits found the hand at his hip. The fingers around the delicate, jutting bone tightened, like they knew Toad was going to pry them away. It was almost painful, but Mortimer bore it, running the pads of his fingers down Sabretooth's wrist. He felt out the veins that bulged out of the back of the other's hand, the dips between metacarpals, the large, knobby knuckles. He soothed the pads of his fingers over the length of Sabretooth's, the hair there soft, fading just before the second knuckle. Victor's fingers were massive; four of Mortimer's just barely covering three.

He moved down to the other's nails, mindful of his own as he felt out the rough cuticles, the jagged, bumpy planes of the nails and their broken or rough tips. Mortimer grimaced at a particularly bad break with a chunk missing, and chuckled to himself at his absurd desire to give the other a manicure.

The jostling movement pressed Victor's lips against Toad's spine and he gasped, gripping the glass hard. He was surprised he didn't break it. He was surprised he didn't startle Sabretooth away when he forced his fingers between the ones on his hip, when he caressed and tugged on the taut skin there, so different from his own webbed pleats.

He stilled when the lips pressed more firmly, sucking in air desperately, but trying to keep his chest from rising too much. He kept himself from pushing back into the touch.

"Not here," Mortimer whispered. He let out an exasperated sigh when Sabretooth stood up straight. He turned with Sabretooth's hand as it pulled away, not wanting the contact to end just yet.

But it did. The contact ended and Sabretooth stepped back.

"Wa-"

"Your room, then," Victor said, taking a few slow steps toward the archway leading to the hallway.

"I have to- to clean up this mess," Mortimer said, his lips drawing down in a frown as he glanced from the blonde to the table.

"Fuck it. Leave it."

"But, it's kinda what I do," Mortimer shot back, gaining a bit of nerve.

"Someone else will get it. There's a lot of," Sabretooth paused to think of a word, "a lot of other bootlickers around here."

"Bootlick- Hey!" Confusion turned to irritation in a split second, and Mortimer put the glass in the sink then turned off the water.

Sabretooth chuckled, warm and deep and he put both hands in his pockets. The tug of his fists in the fabric only served to outline his erection, but the blonde didn't seem to care.

"Yeah, I think I like that a little better than 'Jumpy'. You're 'Bootlicker' now," he said with a wide, lopsided grin.

Mortimer followed a chuckling Sabretooth to his own room, grinding his teeth.

With the door shut behind them, Victor sat on Mortimer's bed like he owned it. He kicked off his boots and sprawled out while the other watched.

"You comin'?"

"You're not fucking me," Mortimer warned, splaying webbed fingers on the rumpled sheets.

"I don't have the coordination for that right now," Sabretooth said, licking his lips afterward. "I barely got my damn shoes off. It's been a couple months since the clinic, so, I'm gone right now."

"Then what?" Mortimer asked, putting one knee on the bed. His arms quivered as he tried to support himself on them.

"Then lay down, sleep off the food cramps and let me keep the high goin'. That's what."

"Food cramps," Mortimer groused and huffed through his nose, but laid down anyway, with his back to Sabretooth. One thick arm wrapped around his torso and pulled him close.

The blankets and pillows were all bunched up in one corner, so Mortimer's only option to rest his head was Sabretooth's bicep. It was silently offered, and he took it. Lips and tongue found the back of his neck yet again, and Mortimer was surprised that he didn't feel as violated this time. He couldn't have been sweating that much, but didn't voice his thought. He didn't want the half-assed embrace to end, not when the beast of a man was letting him trace the knuckles of the hand on his stomach and rest his head on the python of an arm. He felt comfortable. He'd question the feeling later.

Sabretooth dozed off, face buried in stringy brown locks. Mortimer snickered at the way Sabretooth growled and snorted in his sleep and wondered if his sweat was giving the other trippy dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have a problem with keeping my verbs in past-tense, so if you notice a mistake in this area, feel free to point it out.


	8. Chapter 8

Mortimer woke to a pleasant smell. Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. A carnivore's delight of a breakfast on his bedside stand. He picked a sausage patty off the plate and bit into it before he realized what he was doing.

The taste woke him up, told him it wasn't a dream, but real food. He licked his lips and blinked the sleep from his eyes, looking around the room. No Sabretooth. The food was still warm.

He no longer had the desire to put another piece of meat in his mouth when he realized that they'd cuddled the previous night. In his room. In his bed. His bed where the covers were bunched up in the corner where he pressed himself into the walls, the hard metal under faux-wood finished plastic. His blankets and pillows were still bunched up in the familiar almost-cocoon shape he left them in. It was the only way he could sleep in a bed, he'd thought, if it was pressed up against a corner and he made himself as small as possible on top of the pillows, under the blankets, but with a clear view of the door. So he could see if anyone came in.

But he'd fallen asleep with Sabretooth's arm over him. Lying out nearly straight. With no chemical influence. Then, he briefly wondered if his mutation made him super sensitive to the chemicals in turkey that made one drowsy. He hadn't made his bed the previous day. His mind was a jumble of unpleasant, worrisome thoughts with a warm glow niggling at him under it all.

He took up the fork next to the plate that was left for him and ate quickly, barely tasting it before swallowing. He smoothed out the covers on his bed as best he could, giving the room an air of normalcy. He changed into a pair of slacks and a polo, grabbed his dishes, and hurried from his room to the kitchen.

He'd managed to do a little something, cleaning up a bit before Blob stopped him for a brief chat, to ask him if he'd eaten yet, to remind Toad that he was getting thin. Mortimer managed to politely excuse himself at the rumbling in his stomach, managed to not smack the shit out of one of the very few people he actually considered a friend, and head to the nearest restroom.

He leaned over the toilet bowl, steadying himself on the tank. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He tried to 'find his center'. What he found was that his stomach had shrunk too much over the past few years to hold down two full meals nearly in a row.

"Purging yourself of my hospitality?"

Also, that he forgot to close the door.

Mortimer shook his head in the negative. "Just ate too much."

"That was a kids meal sized plate."

Mortimer turned a glare at Sabretooth as he wiped his mouth with a few squares of toilet tissue and threw it in the bowl before flushing.

"You ain't gonna wash out your mouth?"

"Why? Want a kiss?" Toad spat.

Sabretooth grinned. "There's the fire."

"I need to get back to work," Mortimer said, attempting to push past Sabretooth.

"I was thinkin' we could spar. You've been out of commission for a while on the account of your depression, so you could use some, uh, situational, real-time training."

"My stomach is too upset for that."

"I'll go easy on you," Sabretooth teased, still blocking the other's exit.

Toad hopped to the ceiling and crawled through the foot-and-a-half space between the top of Victor's head and the door frame. The blonde watched with amusement as Toad crawled half-way down the wall and then leapt off.

"It ain't doing you any good, ya know. You got the natural skills, so why don't you hone 'em? Be a fighter instead of a janitor."

"I'm only any good at fighting humans. Put me up against a mutant and I'm only good at running away." Toad was looking down the hall for anyone that may overhear when he spoke.

"We need those kinds, too, I guess. Stealth shit. You climb walls. You're quiet. I don't really see why we need it, but the boss seems to think so.

"I'd rather just go in and tear everything down by force, but I guess this way is interesting, too." Sabretooth shrugged, his heavy shoulders rolling. It probably took a lot more effort than it looked like it took. "But, ya know, with those legs, that tongue, and those girly-assed nails of yours, you could be a force to be reckoned with."

Mortimer spun on one heel to face Victor. He had been about to walk away. "My nails are not girly," he hissed.

"Bullshit. That's the kind of shit you see in magazines," Sabretooth said, pointing to one of Mortimer's clenched fists.

"And how would you know?"

"I ain't above flippin' through a magazine when I'm bored, kid.

"Apparently, sharp nails were 'tres chic' for a while. In the seventies."

A grin split Sabretooth's maw at the frustration on Mortimer's features. He decided to keep picking. "Ya know, during the height of all that feminism shit," he leaned on the doorframe, watching Toad clench his fists. He could hear the skin creaking. "I think it's kind of stupid, to be honest. The only people that matter are the ones that can fight. If a female can fight, sure, bring her along. If not, fuck it. She can die with the rest of the weaklings.

"That why you act the way you do, Bootlicker? Ya hidin' your femininity from us? Ya got a vergina under there?" Sabretooth could barely keep himself from laughing. "Why you gettin' so pissed off? Makes you look sexist, or something." His teeth clacked together as he bit down to keep from falling into a guffaw.

"You've seen me naked," Mortimer hissed, his cheeks darkening.

"Yeah, but I ain't never seen you get hard. It could've been a really good prop." After a pause, Sabretooth added; "Don't know where you would have got a green one, though."

"This conversation is over," Mortimer said, uncurling one fist to push his hair back out of his face. He scowled at the blonde.

"Don't be like that, sweetcheeks," Sabretooth called at the retreating form. He howled a laugh when he received a middle finger.

Victor followed the angry brunette, hot on his heels. Mortimer sped up and the length of Sabretooth's casual strides increased. He nearly tripped over the smaller man when he stopped and turned to face him.

"What do you want?"

Sabretooth loosely pinned Mortimer to the wall, caged in only by those powerful arms. He could duck down and get away if he wanted to. "I wanna fight you," the blonde purred, leaning in close. His hair tickled Mortimer's nose and cheek as he spoke right into his ear; "I want to hold you down after I win and lick all the sweat off of you, get high as fuck."

"You assume you'll even be able to catch me," Mortimer said, crossing his arms. His shirt felt uncomfortable about the armpits that way, but he'd be damned if he gave Sabretooth the satisfaction of bracing himself on him.

"Done it before, haven't I?"

"In enclosed spaces."

"Then prove me wrong. That'd be a thrill. Almost as much as gettin' high off of you. No one's been able to prove me wrong in a long time."

The way Victor purred the word 'long' had Mortimer drawing in a breath and turning his head away.

"There's more, isn't there?" Oh, how he mentally kicked himself for the breathy, nearly whiny tone of his voice.

"Mmh. Well, sure, I'd like ta fuck ya, but I can get that elsewhere, since you don't seem so inclined." Sabretooth was breathing against Mortimer's too-dry skin, his exposed neck.

"Why?" Mortimer asked, brow scrunched. He drew the nails of his right hand over his left forearm, barely resisting the urge to dig then in. His skin tingled and itched in so many places and he couldn't risk making Sabretooth mad by scratching the spot his lips occasionally brushed.

"Fuck if I know. My dick just tells me it wants to be buried in you. Can't say I'd mind watching you wiggle around on it."

Toad's lips parted in a silent moan when Sabretooth's tongue found the first bits of forming sweat at his hairline. Being boxed in under Sabretooth's heat, his heavy shirt, the heavy air- Mortimer couldn't help sweating. He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on the other's biceps, pushing back the slightest bit.

"So, are we gonna fight or what?" Sabretooth asked, pulling back enough that he could meet the other's eyes, that Toad could see him grinning.

Mortimer blinked and Victor snorted. The brunette looked between them, standing up straighter, pressing himself against the wall. "While you have an erection?"

"You'll have the advantage until it goes away."

There was a long silence while Mortimer thought it over. The sounds of unhurried footsteps could be heard in the distance.

"Fine. But somewhere where you can't just reach up and grab me if I get on the ceiling." His eyes widened a bit and his head jerked up to meet Sabretooth's gaze again. "And you don't get to fuck me if you win."

"I still get ta lick you, right?"

"Like anything I say will stop you," Mortimer deadpanned. When he saw Sabretooth's grin fading into a snarl, Mortimer's inner people pleasing tendencies reared their ugly heads. "If you win, alright?"

With the grin back in place, Sabretooth pulled away from Mortimer, who could breathe right again, and the wall.

An hour later found Toad with his bare back pressed to the wall, held up around his basketball short-clad thighs with Victor's meaty paws. He'd forgotten just how high the blonde could leap if he wanted to. He anchored himself with his feet, pushing them against Sabretooth's thighs to keep their pelvises from touching.

One hand roughly petted his hair before pushing it aside, to give Victor access to the rivulets of sweat that dripped down the other's jaw and neck. A nip and suck on his chin had Mortimer closing his eyes, his mouth falling open in time for that rough tongue to swipe over his bottom lip. Sabretooth paused briefly before diving back into licking over Mortimer's temples, his hairline, his eyelids, though gently over the thin and tender flesh.

"Can I-?" Mortimer whispered, brushing his fingers over the long blonde hair that hung down between them. He gripped the bicep of Sabretooth's arm that supported them tightly while he waited for a response.

"Yeah, sure," Sabretooth slurred against Mortimer's hairline. He used his free hand to maneuver Toad higher, so he could lick and suck the moisture from his chest. He growled at the tug on his hair when his tongue brushed a dark, pebbled nipple. Sabretooth purred into the other's armpit when Mortimer drug his nails over his scalp, tugging softly on the golden strands. He closed his eyes and sucked hard on Mortimer's skin, trying to jerk his hips forward. "Fuck," he growled around the flesh and Mortimer whimpered.

His whimper turned into a cry of surprise when Sabretooth suddenly put Mortimer on his own two feet and dropped to his knees. He tried to lock them in place, but they gave out and he tugged harshly on those glorious, tangled locks. Nails bit into his thighs as Sabretooth pushed him back against the freezing wall. Toad curled over the other, clutching his massive shoulders, still pulling on his hair with one hand as that awful, wonderful tongue laved over his hipbone, and down to the waistband of his shorts.

Mortimer started to panic when Sabretooth pulled at his shorts. He dug his nails in to Sabretooth's back and pulled, drawing a strangled near-roar from the blonde. Victor bit down on the other's hip bone and sucked.

"S-stop," Mortimer begged, pulling his nails from the already healing skin, having to tug hard.

"You," Sabretooth said, standing, supporting himself on the wall, supporting Mortimer with his biceps, "are the only man on the fucking planet that would turn down a fucking blow-job."

The brunette bit his plush bottom lip and Sabretooth couldn't resist his urge to run his tongue over it. He moaned into the opening mouth, dizzy with drug and sensation, lazily plundering the hot orifice. When Mortimer wrapped his tongue around Sabretooth's and sucked, the blonde growled. He pulled back suddenly and slammed the shorter man into the wall, hard, making Mortimer cry out in pain.

"Fuck," Sabretooth said again, pulling back.

Mortimer slid to the floor and desperately gulped down air. He put one hand to his lips and the other between bent knees, trying to hide the fact that he'd gotten aroused from just that kiss.

"Where-" he panted, looking up through drying strands of hair.

"To jerk off," Sabretooth growled, hobbling away, his dizzy cant awkward with a throbbing erection.

"Oh."

"Yeah."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning; this chapter opens with a wank scene.

Toad unlatched, re-locked and checked the lock four times before he was satisfied with the door actually being locked. He quickly moved to his bed, undoing the work he'd done earlier that day, piling the pillows and blankets like he was going to sleep there, fluffing one out so it would look like he was under the blanket. It wouldn't fool anyone for very long but, he figured, the time it would buy would be enough.

He hurried to the bathroom, flushed with embarrassment. He shut and locked the door, checking it twice. He groaned, bracing himself on the sink, thinking about how awful of an idea it had been to fight in the main hall of their living quarters. Even worse was the running- hopping up the stairs and down a hall, around the corner, to his room, all with a throbbing erection. Fuck, from just one fucking kiss. And now, Mortimer thought, now Sabretooth knows my fucking weakness.

He rubbed his lips with one hand, his tongue darting out to brush his fingers, almost against his will. Eyes closed tightly, he could almost pretend his were someone else's lips. Anyone's, he pleaded with himself, anyone but Sabretooth. But he found himself unable to concentrate on his usual fantasies.

He'd been growing to hate his Wanda fantasy in recent months. Not because of Victor, but because she'd already chosen someone else. He couldn't help but remember that every time he'd thought of her. Pretty, skinny little blondes; women with tiny waists and big breasts, plush lips and perky nipples, men, hairless save for their heads with sharp hipbones and toned butts- none of the usual was working for him. He pulled his hand from his mouth and slammed it down on the counter a bit too hard, cussing at the pain that shot up his arm.

He took a deep breath and sighed.

The kiss with Sabretooth hadn't lasted more than a few seconds, but-"god," he breathed- his half hard prick had jumped to attention as their lips fit together. The sensation of the rough tongue trapped, wrapped in his left his mouth tingling from the scrape of microscopic hooks that tugged in a positively delightful way.

He pushed his shorts down to mid-thigh, cursed Sabretooth and took his engorged length in hand. He wanted to put his fingers back at his lips, make them tingle like they had been just a minute ago, but he had to support himself on the edge of the sink with his free hand. Mortimer parted his lips and licked them, whimpering as he tugged urgently on his straining prick.

It didn't take long to reach his peak, one knee bending slightly, drawing up against his body, then going limp. He clutched the sink as his legs threatened to dump him on the tiled floor. He panted, carefully holding himself until he went flaccid, then proceeded to clean himself, and the sink cabinet- yuck- off once he could trust his legs again.

With a heavy sigh, he prepared to take a quick shower. He didn't really plan on sudsing up, just washing the fluids away and enjoying the warm spray for a minute.

After that minute was over, he thought about curling up in bed. He decided against it, however, when he realized how early it still was. He didn't want to leave his room for a few hours, though. Or, at least, until the bruises he'd gotten from his scuffle/make-out session with Sabretooth had healed.

There was nothing to do in his room, he noticed. Sure, he had a small collection of battered old books, but he'd read each several times. He was at a point with a couple of them where he could recite lines and tell someone what chapter they were from. He had the beer tabs in the drawer of the bedside stand, now that he was staying someplace stable. He looked at them, touched them, turned them over in his hands, even absently chewed on one as he tried to figure out what was going on with his life these days.

He knew he'd have to face the feelings Sabretooth roused in him soon, but it wasn't something he was looking forward to. He could, however, admit to himself that he liked being close to the other when he wasn't trying to fuck him. The intimate touching was nice, caressing his hand, feeling his hair, getting to know the boxy face with his fingertips... Toad sighed out loud before he could stop himself. He spat the tab into the drawer with a huff of annoyance. He still didn't know enough about the blonde's personality to know if they could make a relationship work, but he highly doubted it.

What he'd seen of the other suggested a one-dimensional personality, openly displaying his simplistic emotions. That wasn't something Mortimer was sure he could handle unless affection was one of those open displays. But, that was something the blonde's calloused heart wouldn't be capable of, he was sure of it. Even if he did want to keep Mortimer well-fed and in shape.

Toad ran sharp-nailed fingers through wet hair, staring at the ground between his feet, not even realizing he'd perched himself on the edge of his bed. He thought about asking for an assignment somewhere else, maybe even cleaning the prisons where enraged, misbehaving and X-Men allied mutants caused untold levels of destruction, destroying the walls of their cells and even went so far as to smear bodily excretions on the walls. Sabretooth surely wouldn't follow him there, and Magneto would be glad to get him off his back. Surely.

His thoughts only grew darker as he allowed himself to indulge in the painful line of reasoning, and the thunderous knock on the door made him twitch and pull out a few strands of hair. He didn't want to answer the door, but did anyway, figuring it could be the boss summoning for him.

"Hey, Freddy," he said, looking up at the giant. A plate of something akin to scones was shoved into a surprised Mortimer's hands. They were tiny little triangular things with bits of what was possibly fruit showing. Almost cute.

"You like those, right?" Fred asked.

"You assume I like scones because I'm a Brit?" Mortimer said, teasingly, though there was an edge of irritation to his voice.

"Hey, whatever. They're cakes with fruit in 'em. I didn't know it was a British thing. Some new chick made 'em and I snagged a few for you, so shoot me," Freddy said, his shoulders sagging.

"I appreciate it," Toad said quietly, "but I don't have the stomach for more food right now."

"But you're getting so skinny," Blob tried to reason.

"Because I've been working out, wanker," Mortimer hissed, somewhere between playful and scathing.

"Mmhm. You dropped two sizes in two months because you were working out, okay," Freddy said sarcastically, crossing his arms.

"Do I hear a hint of jealousy?" Mortimer teased.

"Oh, fuck off, Toad." The deep frown that creased his friend's fat face made Mortimer feel bad. His own resulting frown nearly matched the other's expression.

"I was just kidding, mate. I appreciate the sweets. Did you want something else?"

"Why don't we go do something like we used to, huh? Make fun of stuff. Ya always used to make me laugh. No one else here has a sense of humor quite like yours. I'm getting bored without you. Thinkin' about going back to the circus."

"Why, though?" Toad asked, moving out of the doorway to allow his friend in, setting the scones on his bedside stand. He shut the drawer he'd left open with his hip and sat on the bed, motioning to the end for Blob to sit. "You're so useful. You're a fucking tank."

Fred sat on the end of the bed and Mortimer made a point of not mentioning how the other end of the mattress popped up and would have flung him into the other if he hadn't anticipated it and hooked his sharp-nailed hands and feet into it. He'd gotten used to this scenario by now. He found a comfortable position to face Blob and waited for his answer.

"We're just means to an end, Morty," he said, shrugging again. "I mean, it was the same in the circus. Just a bunch of freaks to be made money off of. But it wasn't so hectic, so boring. I didn't know it was even possible to be busy and bored at the same time."

"Yeah, mate, but think about what this end means. A better world for mutants, no humans to subjugate us. Any humans that are even left will be reverent, subservient. Won't even fucking need money," Mortimer said. He soon realized that he developed a potty mouth around Fred.

"But with the boss at the helm..."

"Hell, I'm sure he will want to remain in one place and give control of other countries to his 'lieutenants'. I'm sure that means us, too. I mean, we will probably only get cities, like mayoral positions, not that mayors have any place in a tyranny, and have to answer to someone like Mystique or Sabretooth, but eh. It'll be worth it mate. Just hang in there." Toad grinned impishly to himself, thinking that he should be a motivational speaker for the revolution. Then he wondered if he was bipolar and nearly snorted out loud.

"Yeah, speaking of Sabretooth," Blob started.

Ah, shit. Mortimer's blood ran cold. "What about 'im?"

"You've become a recluse since you've started fucking around with Sabretooth," Fred said with a raised brow.

"I'm not 'fucking around' with anyone, mate," Toad stated, his tone low and warning.

"Could have fooled me."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Any time I see you anymore, you're with him. Now, remember this; I don't give a fuck about who you fuck, but I don't want you to stop being the funny asshole you were when I first joined up with this... Thing."

"I'm not fucking Sabretooth! Jesus!" Toad barked.

"Of course not. He'd be fucking you," Fred said, brow back up.

Mortimer snorted and bit his lip, trying not to laugh. He wanted to stay mad, but couldn't. He burst out into a short fit of laughter, finally clamping down on his tongue with his teeth to end it. "Christ, mate. How many other people think I'm in some sort of relationship with the fur-brained oaf?"

"Quicksilver, for sure. Some others."

"Well, I'm not," Mortimer said, a little uncertain, wondering if that was a lie. "He's just been concerned about my health, that's all." And, ya know, we cuddle and make out and shit.

"That ain't like him."

"It ain't like you to be so worried about trivial bullshit, either, mate."

"It's not trivial if it's hurting you. But it sure is bullshit."

Toad sighed, closing his eyes and smacking himself in the forehead with his palm and dragging it down over his face. "Look, I'm fine. Really. I just had a rough couple of weeks. Ya wanna go make fun of the statues that look like dicks?"

"There's statues that look like dicks here?"

"Oh, Christ, mate. They're everywhere. You'd start to think it's all the boss-man has on his mind."

"Really?"

"Come on, let me show you," Mortimer said, nodding his head towards the door. He hopped from the bed and motioned for Fred to follow.

"Mind if I tag along?" Sabretooth drawled from where he leaned against the doorframe. "I wanna see if the statues actually look like dicks or if you've just got dick on the brain." His grin was toothy and wide as he looked back and forth between Blob and Toad.

Mortimer seemed to sigh with his entire body and looked back to Fred, who stood up and fixed the skewed mattress. After it was back in place, the bigger man shrugged.

"It was fine when he tagged along in D.C. Don't see why it would be any different now. Not like we can really stop him from following us, anyway. He's only mildly annoying."

"Nice to know what you really think of me, Fatass," Sabretooth quipped, still grinning.

"Fuck you too, Furball," Blob shot back.

Toad snickered, then sighed, then shook his head. "Alright, come on. We have some phalic artwork to make fun of," Toad said, snatching a scone off of the plate on the table. He nibbled on it as he walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though Toad will always be my bae, I love Blob, too. He's just so sassy and adorable and rarely does anyone use him to his fullest potential.


	10. Chapter 10

After "Die Penisstatuenführung" as Mortimer called it, and Sabertooth being mildly impressed with his German as another pot-shot at their boss, things returned to relatively normal. Nearly so because Sabretooth still found Mortimer after his workouts to steal away a few drops of his sweat with his wicked tongue. Even when Freddy and Morty had been in the gym together. The first time it happened, Mortimer barely talked Blob out of decking Sabretooth, but he soon came to accept it as just another strange thing that happened around the Magneto barracks.

Sensing the easing of tension, even Quicksilver had started hanging around with them again, and the addition of a newbie deemed Pyro, all of Toad's time was occupied. It was several weeks before Toad even got a day to himself. But, of course, Mortimer inwardly chastised, he wasn't allowed to have even one day. Unless he was falling to pieces, which he wasn't at the moment, so he begrudgingly accepted the invitation to lunch with Sabretooth.

Or, that's what he thought it was as the blonde brawler stalked up to him and growled the word 'food' as if it were an order.

He responded with a questioning "sure?" and followed Sabretooth silently to a diner, of all the places.

Money wasn't an issue where they were; all one big, happy family on the outside. They were presented with coffee and sugar and cream and smiles. Of course Sabretooth drank his black. But, he didn't say a word as Mortimer loaded his with sugar and the barest hint of thick, rich cream.

Sabretooth snorted at the look of shock on Toad's features at his order of four hamburgers and a side of fries, then urged him to order by kicking him in the shin under the table. Mortimer asked for a turkey club with no sides and Sabretooth rolled his eyes. The smaller male kicked back at that. As the waiter walked away, Sabretooth pinned Mortimer's shoe to the ground under his boot. The other slipped his foot out of the leather and pushed at the other's lumpy knee.

"You cheat," Victor taunted, smirking.

"I did not! We didn't define any rules for this... Game!" Mortimer hissed quietly, his cheeks darkening the slightest bit.

"I didn't think I'd have to tell ya ta keep your shoe on."

"Whatever," Toad said, bringing his mug to his lips simply to hide his embarrassment. "Why did you bring me out here anyway?" It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but he knew Sabretooth heard him.

"Changing the subject, spoiled sport? Ah," Sabretooth teased, leaning back and spreading his arms over the backrest. They spanned more than the length of the thing, and he had to bend one not to bump the window. "I thought you should eat."

"You think that a lot."

"I think the right thing."

They watched each other, Sabretooth in amusement, Toad warily, until their food arrived. Their waiter looked a little concerned at the tension between them, and Victor tried to provide a little relief by smiling in his general direction. That only made their server more concerned at all the sharp, terrifying teeth, and he hurried away. Sabretooth frowned and waved one hand dismissively before tearing into one of his hamburgers.

Mortimer picked at his sandwich, his foot still in contact with Sabretooth, having slipped down his leg to rest against his calf, on top of his boot. He didn't seem to mind. They ate in silence, the server returning once to refill their coffee.

Once Mortimer finished his sandwich, Victor pushed his fries forward. The brunette sighed and picked one up, just to placate the other. He ate a few, then pushed the plate back.

"I'm full."

"Eat more," Victor commanded.

"I can't, mate," was the wary response.

"You can, you just don't want to."

"I don't want to feel bloated and useless."

"Eat more often, then," and the words were final, discussion ending. Sabretooth reached out for his cup and downed the rest of his coffee. "You ready to go?"

"Go where?"

"I figured we'd cause some chaos," Victor said with a shrug.

"And get chewed out by the boss? I don't think so."

"Pussy."

"Projecting your qualities on me, love?" Mortimer teased, slipping his shoe back on. At Sabretooth's growl, Toad launched himself from the table and ran out the door. Finding Sabretooth right behind him, he dropped to all fours and started hopping, kicking up rocks in his haste.

"You'll never catch me outside!" Toad yelled, then chuckled to himself, taking to a well-constructed fire-escape. He hopped to the outside rim of each level and propelled himself up, keeping just out of Sabretooth's reach.

Here, Mortimer was in his element; open air, but with obstacles to climb on and put between himself and his opponent.

On top of the building, he ducked behind an entry-way and waited for Sabretooth to round the corner, clinging to the wall just above where Victor's head would be. When the blonde looked around the corner and wrinkled his nose, in a way that Mortimer found almost cute, as he tried to discern the others location by scent, the brunette hocked a wad of sticky mucus at the other. Sabretooth barely avoided it with a startled curse, and launched himself after Toad.

Their game went on for a while, scaring passersby into hiding. Down a nearly deserted street; from the ruckus they'd caused, no doubt, Mortimer thought as he slowed down and made a sharp turn, jumping into a row of bushes off to the side of the clean sidewalk. Sabretooth came barreling after him, tearing clear through a bush to try to get at Toad, who let himself get caught.

They tumbled to the ground, Mortimer laughing all the while as Victor huffed out a sound of joy at his success.

"Oh, we are going to have to fix that bush," Mortimer complained, even as he smiled, letting himself be pinned to the grass by Victor's bulk. He let one arm rest in the grass above his head and moved his other hand to brush through golden curls, then trace a finger over the other's exposed collarbone. He carefully minded his nails, almost dainty and certainly reverent.

"Ain't my problem," Sabretooth said, watching the other's eyes follow the path his finger took.

"We'll get yelled at," Mortimer reasoned, sagging a bit, pulling his hand away only to curl it around Victor's bicep. He hummed quietly when Sabretooth leaned in to lick at his throat, tilting his head back to give the other access.

"You mistake me for someone who gives a shit," the blonde purred against the moist skin of Toad's neck. His tongue was far more merciful than his words as he lapped up the sudor, not even bothering an attempt to restrain the supine form beneath him. "Someone else will get it."

"You always say that," Mortimer said, though he didn't sound like he was complaining.

"You always say too much," was Victor's response before he tried to claim the other's lips. He growled when he was denied and met a sweat-slick, flushed cheek.

"I'm not saying 'no'," Mortimer started, tightening his grip on the flexing muscle under his fingers, "just not here. We're in public, love." He immediately regretted the pet name, watching the other for his reaction warily.

Sabretooth frowned- actually frowned! Mortimer marveled- not scowling or snarling, but frowned, almost pouting in his intoxication. It must've come on quick, Mortimer thought, watching various expressions claim Victor's features.

"Your place or mine?"

"We need to talk about this," Mortimer said with a heavy sigh.

"What is there to talk about?" Honest curiosity, Toad noted, not anger.

"A lot, love. Now let me up so we can go back to my room."

After regarding Mortimer for a few moments, Sabretooth leaned down to lick a stripe up the side of his face before getting to his feet. He blinked slowly, then smirked as he watched Toad wipe his face with his hand and make a displeased noise. They walked back to the compound in silence, Sabretooth swaying a bit every so many steps.

As they passed the threshold, the staff entryway, Sabretooth paused to lean on the doorframe for a moment and grin at Toad.

"The longer I go without it, the better it feels," he admitted, toothy grin in place. Mortimer knew he meant the drug he produced, but the lecherous grin and the tone of voice gave him an uncomfortable chill.

"My room," was all he said before hopping off.

Sabretooth found Mortimer straightening out the already made bed, and kicked the door shut behind him. It rattled in the frame, but Toad couldn't bring himself to look. He sighed when thick arms wrapped around him, and meaty paws found his midsection.

"Start talking," Sabretooth stated.

"Will you remember anything I say?" Toad asked before swallowing thickly. He brought his hands up to Victor's and got a feel for them. "Will you-" he sighed, "will you let me fix your nails?"

"After you tell me what this is." Sabretooth tightened his grip and suckled at the back of Mortimer's neck. Toad held his breath for a moment.

"It would be easier if I had something to distract myself, mate," he said, drawing his nails up the back of Victor's hands, then soothing the pads of his fingers down over the already-vanishing welts.

"So, no sex?"

"Again, I'm not saying 'no', there's just... Some things you should know, I guess," Mortimer said and closed his eyes.

"Were you raped?"

"Man, why do people always assume that?"

"Because whenever I try to do anything with you, you start acting like a scared little rabbit."

"Have you looked in a mirror? You're kind of terrifying."

"Women usually like the way I look."

"In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm not a woman. Can I just- just do your nails? This would be a lot easier."

Sabretooth snorted a good-natured chuckle against Mortimer's shoulder, then nuzzled his neck. "You say you're not a woman, then ask to do my nails. That's funny." He pulled away a bit, his hands on Mortimer's sides, splayed along his ribs. "You can if you ask in a way that doesn't make us sound like twelve-year old girls."

"Can I clean and cut your nails so I don't go insane trying to explain my sexual hang-ups to you?" Toad asked through gritted teeth.

"Sure," Victor said, giving a light squeeze before ending the contact entirely. "They'll grow back tomorrow, though."

"That's fine," Mortimer groused, crossing the room to get to the bathroom. "C'mon."

In the bathroom, he gave the blonde a gentle push to sit on the toilet, surprised when he sat willingly. Sabretooth smirked at the bulky kit that was pulled from beneath the sink, and upon noticing his expression, Mortimer sneered back. He grabbed one of Sabretooth's hands as he sat on the edge of the tub.

"Alright, look," he said as he took out a pair of clippers, "this is how it is." He complained to himself as the normal amount of pressure he applied to clip his own nails didn't seem to cut it, literally, with Sabretooth's thick, unkempt ones. He slid off the tub and dug out a pair of toenail clippers and got back to work. "I don't like normal sex.

"It's not because I've been abused or something like that, because I haven't. Not sexually, anyway. I've had... Swabs and shit like that in my, uh, orifices, but that was for science, not for some sick fuck to get his freaky rocks off with me, or something. I mean," he said with a sigh, taking Sabretooth's other hand to cut those nails, "they were still sick fucks, but not sexually. Not to me, anyway."

Sabretooth said nothing as he watched Mortimer take a file and start working his shortened nails into a softer shape. He simply raised a brow and waited for the other to continue.

"I just... I just don't like it, mate. I've done it before. Pissed off a couple of girls because they thought I didn't find them attractive, but it's not that. I just can't keep it up unless I'm being kissed." He filed down the other set of nails and took out a hooked tool to clean the blood and dirt from under the now more shapely nails. "The guys I've been with have been a little bit more understanding because, well, they know that getting fucked in the ass hurts." Sabretooth snorted at that. "So, they were more inclined to do other things."

"Other things?" Sabretooth drawled, cocking his head.

"Oh, hell. Like frotting and oral and- the like," Toad answered, taking out a bottle and a cube that looked like foam rubber.

"The fuck is 'frotting'?" Sabretooth asked, "and what the fuck are you doing now?"

"Frotting is where two guys rub their dicks together, and I'm still cleaning your nails."

"That's so girly," he said, ignoring the first statement entirely.

"Ya know who suggested this?" Mortimer asked, holding up the block. Sabretooth raised a brow. "The boss."

"He cleans his nails with a knife," Sabretooth said.

"Yeah, well, his nails are more normal than ours."

"That's true. So, are you, uh, what's the word? One of those people who don't have sexual urges?"

"Asexual? I don't know," Toad answered, turning back to his work on the other's nails. "I doubt it. I just don't like certain things.

"I'm a bit surprised that you're still here, listening to me," Mortimer admitted on a stuttering breath.

"Well, for one thing, I'm high," Sabretooth said with a snort. "You ever been high? Shit is fascinating when you're stoned. For another, I ain't about to leave with one set of nails all pretty and shit and the other how they usually are. It'll piss me off until I sober up."

"I've been doing both hands with each thing before I move on to the next so you can leave any time you want."

"Maybe I just don't want to leave."

Mortimer didn't know what to say, so he just finished the last of the nails.

"Gonna paint 'em too, princess?"

"Do you want them painted?"

"Holy shit. You have nail polish," Sabretooth said as if it were just about the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"Only clear, but if you want color, I'm sure some girl around here would be more than willing to share."

"I was making fun of you, ya know."

"I know. I was ignoring it."

"You put up with way more shit than you should."

"What else am I supposed to do? I'm not as strong as you. I can't just smash in the heads of people who disagree with me. That's why I'm still just a lackey and not even an important figure in this... War." Mortimer muttered as he organized the items in the nail kit and put it away.

"That's not even what I meant, but okay," Sabretooth said, looking at his nails. "Man, I was a kid the last time I saw my nails looking this good."

Mortimer smiled at the indirect praise, hiding the expression behind his hand.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

"Wot d'ya mean?" Toad asked, still hiding his face.

"The next time I get high off of you. We gonna rub willies?"

Mortimer's laughter was so sudden and loud that it startled Victor into a twitch of his shoulders. He glared at the brunette who was still crouched on the tiled floor.

"I was serious," he growled.

"Oh, I know. The way you phrased it just... Surprised me." Toad reached out to put his hands on Sabretooth's knees, and the other spread them, letting him sit between them. There was a long silence as Mortimer knelt there, enjoying the closeness. "If that's what you want and it doesn't lead to you trying to put it in my arse, then sure."

"I can't believe I have to ask you to tell me what you want. You're a grown man," Sabretooth said, threading the fingers of one hand through Mortimer's hair.

"Do you really care?" Mortimer asked the cotton-clad thigh he was pressing his face into.

"When it comes to sex, yeah."

"Never would have thought-" Mortimer's words ended in a whimper when the fingers in his hair curled into a fist and pulled. His head was forced back and he looked up at Sabretooth with wide eyes.

"What. Do. You. Want."

"Ah- let go of my hair, mate."

"Tell me what you want first. I'm starting to sober up, and if you don't behave, I'm going to get pissed off."

"I just want to be held," he whined, "I just want to pretend someone fucking cares for a while. God damn it!" He pulled hard, hissing at the pain on his scalp.

Without a word, Sabretooth stood and, moving his hand to cup the back of Mortimer's head, he pulled the smaller man with him to leave the bathroom. He kicked off his boots and practically threw Toad on his own bed. Sabretooth shed his jacket and roughly pulled off the other's shoes, throwing both across the room. Pushing his hair out of his face, Victor climbed on the bed and lay down next to the trembling form.

"Stop that. I'm not going to fucking hurt you," he growled, pulling the smaller body close. He buried his nose in the other's hair and sighed out his frustration. He slackened the slightest bit when Mortimer cautiously brought his hands up to clutch the white shirt.

"You said we don't get to pretend," Toad reminded, his voice small, wavering. He stank of fear.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you, if that's what you're hoping for. But I do want to see you get strong enough that you don't die," Victor admitted, shaking with barely-restrained rage, feeling like he was forced to put his deepest, most private thoughts out there. Atrophied emotions felt like a limb that had fallen asleep and was being shaken out; prickling, annoying. He regretted his sobriety, and considered scaring Mortimer into sweating to take the edge off of his aggression. "If that's not good enough for you, then, tough shit."

"I'll take it," Mortimer said, burying his face in Sabretooth's chest, curling his arms up against himself.

"You're such a brat," Sabretooth complained, scratching his now short nails up and down the cotton-clad, freckled back.

Mortimer just mewled happily in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time in the next few days I will have more of this story done for those who have popped over to my FF.N page and looked at it there. I think this story will have between thirteen and fifteen chapters, so we're getting fairly close to a finish here. If I've inspired anyone to ship this, please link me to any stories and/or drawings you do!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexual activity in this chapter.

When Mortimer woke up next to a warm body, he panicked. Frozen in place, he held his breath, not even able to suck up the spittle that was slowly seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"If you drool on me, I might have to kill you," came the drowsy mumble from above. It seemed good-natured, but with Sabretooth, one could never be too sure.

Mortimer quickly slurped up the fluid that threatened to leak onto the bigger man's shirt and gulped. He trembled as he waited for the adrenaline surge to subside a bit. He pulled his arms in close to himself and tried to relax his hands so they wouldn't shake.

"You wanted to cuddle, and now you're afraid of it?" Sabretooth asked, rubbing his stubbly jaw against the top of Mortimer's head. "Fuckin' weirdo." He pulled the other back into him, feeling the smaller body resist immediately. "The hell?"

"I'm not used to it. I-" his voice cracked and he grimaced. He took a deep breath and his throat constricted, making the noise that came out sound like a sob. "Damn it."

"I already told ya I wasn't gonna hurt you. Ain't you never woke up next to someone before?"

"Not-" another swallow, "not in this context."

"Well, fuckin' relax." There was a brief pause filled with the sound of a loud rumbling in Victor's chest. A threatening purr, not quite a growl. "What situations have you woken up next to people in?"

"I'm not comfortable talking about it like this, mate."

"Over food, then?"

"I can't eat yet."

"Need to shit?"

Mortimer let out a small snort of laughter into the crumpled, surprisingly clean, white shirt in front of his face. "Not yet," he muttered.

Sabretooth's hand found its way under Mortimer's shirt and he slowly raked his nails up and down the other's curved spine. Toad shook for a moment more before relaxing into the touch. The blonde snorted at the quiet sounds the smaller man started making.

"Like that?" Sabretooth teased.

"'S good," he muttered, trying to keep himself from writhing under the light petting. "Loike bein' scratched," he said, "when it's gentle."

"I thought you had sensitive skin?"

"Ah do. Makes it feel so good," Mortimer drawled, straightening out his back, stretching, whining, splaying his hands over Sabretooth's chest.

Victor pulled back a bit, smirking at the way the brunette whined at the lack of contact, to watch the expressions flit over Mortimer's face as he traced patterns over the sensitive flesh. He licked his lips absently as Mortimer bit his slightly-too-big lower lip, his eyes half-lidded, lashes casting long shadows over his cheeks. When he pressed just the tiniest bit harder, Toad whimpered and surged forward, fisting his hands in Sabretooth's shirt.

"Good or bad?"

"Good," Mortimer gasped out, "so good."

"Still scared?" Sabretooth asked with another hard drag of his nails up the other's back.

"Only a little," Mortimer admitted.

"Wanna talk now?"

"Can't. Don't make me, please," he breathed as he squirmed against the blonde, reaching up to tug on a handful of curls.

"Then we should do something."

"It's-" Mortimer paused as the scratching did, huffing out a sigh of disappointment. "It's late."

"Or early," Sabretooth suggested.

"Either way," Toad muttered, playing with the locks he'd tangled his fingers in, twirling them around his digits. He hadn't meant to continue, but Victor looked at him like he expected him to. "There isn't anything to do at this time of night."

"Play poker?"

"No cards, mate."

"I got some."

"What would we bet?"

Sabretooth paused thoughtfully, his fingers moving slowly up and down the other's back as he thought.

"Secrets."

"Secrets?" Mortimer asked, raising a brow. He pulled his hand free from Victor's hair and pushed himself back a bit. He wasn't happy to lose the nails and calloused finger-pads that had been petting him, but seriousness called for some distance.

"Winner gets to ask the loser a question and the loser has to answer honestly."

"How will I know you're answering honestly?"

"How will I know you are answering honestly?" Sabretooth countered.

"Good point," Mortimer said, sitting up. "I bet you have a tell."

"Nope. I always wear the same pissed off expression when I play cards." Sabretooth sat up as well. He stretched, then leaned back on his arms. "So how 'bout it?"

"Are there limits?"

"Who needs limits? Limits are for pussies."

"So I can ask anything?"

Victor snorted. "If you manage to win a hand."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

Sabretooth got up and walked from the room. While the blonde was gone, Mortimer grabbed a pair of sweatpants and changed into them in his bathroom. He washed his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes, then looked at his reflection for a long moment. He frowned. He was getting thinner, he noticed. If only he had a normal skin-tone, he thought, he might be almost attractive by modern standards. The awkward hips and slightly hunched back could be hidden by his clothes and no one needed to know about his tongue. He tore himself from the mirror, muttering something about pointless vanity, and left the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him.

He found Sabretooth throwing a few things he'd gathered on the bed, and raised a brow. Chips, some kind of individually packaged cardboard-cake-snack, a soda, the cards, and Sabretooth held an open beer in his hand. He sipped it before setting it on the bedside stand.

"I feel overdressed. Maybe I should be wearing what I sleep in?" Victor joked.

"I don't think my eyes could handle it right now," Toad joked back.

Sabretooth's hands moved to his pants and he unfastened them. He chuckled as Mortimer's eyes went wide. The brunette flinched when the heavy jeans fell to the floor with a 'thud'. Sabretooth kicked them away and sat on the bed in all his plain white t-shirt and gray boxer-wearing glory.

"You didn't."

"I did." Sabretooth chuckled and pointed to the bed, motioning for Mortimer to sit. "We gonna play, or what?"

"Yeah, a'course." He sat and accepted the soda when Victor pushed it his way.

They were almost eerily silent as they played, and Mortimer had decided Sabretooth wasn't lying about the expression he wore when he played cards. The first hand went to Sabretooth.

Mortimer braced himself for way-too-personal questions, tightening his jaw. It went slack at the question he got instead.

"What's yer favorite color?"

"Uh," he stumbled for a moment and Sabretooth grinned. Bastard knew he confused him. "Red, maybe. It's the opposite of green."

"Fair enough," Sabretooth said and shrugged.

They played another hand. Sabretooth took it again.

"Ever been hunting?"

"Do birds count? Like, pigeons in the city?"

"Urban hunting. Interesting. Yeah, it counts."

"Then, yes," Mortimer said, reaching for a chip. Victor huffed out a chuckle at the dainty way the brunette held the greasy treat.

Mortimer took the third hand. A million questions niggled at him, but he chose a more obvious one; "How old are you?"

"Uh," Sabretooth said with much less stuttering and stumbling than when Mortimer had said the same thing a few minutes ago. "I don't remember. I'm older than the boss, older than every other useless bastard on this planet. Even Jimmy. Let's just say there was no such things as cars when I was born."

"Jimmy is... Wolverine?"

"Yeah," Sabretooth answered, a low growl building in his chest.

"How much older?"

"You already asked your question," Sabretooth said, dealing out another hand.

Sabretooth won.

"How many girls you had?"

Mortimer scoffed at the phrasing. "Two."

"Boys?"

"One."

"Is that number different when you count one night stands?"

"You're asking more questions now, too," Mortimer pointed out.

Toad took the next victory.

"Six years, I think," Victor answered without even waiting for the question.

"I wasn't going to ask that."

"Then what were you gonna ask?"

Mortimer took a moment to calm himself to ask the rather invasive question he was thinking of. He took a deep breath and followed it up with a sip of soda.

"You ever been in love?"

"Yeah," Sabretooth answered plainly, "and I'm never doing that shit again."

Toad took the next hand as well, and gave the big blonde a thoughtful look before asking his question.

"How do you feel about me?" It was a meek, pathetic utterance, his eyes cast down at the cards laid out on the bed.

"I already told you. I like you enough that I don't want you to die."

"I think that's a compliment coming from you," Mortimer said, his lips quirking the slightest bit.

"Damn straight it is. I can count the people that I actually give any fucks about on one hand," Victor said, holding his hand up and splaying his fingers.

"Is that it, though?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Do you consider me a friend?"

"I don't have friends anymore," Sabretooth said. He inwardly sighed at the slump of the other's shoulders. "But, you're the closest I've had in years."

At that, Mortimer's face darkened with a blush and he tried his hardest not to grin. Sabretooth snorted at the reaction. He dealt yet another hand, and won it.

He tore into one of the snack cakes before asking anything.

"I'm gonna throw your question back atcha."

"How do I feel about you?"

Sabretooth grunted an affirmative around a mouthful of... something.

"You scare me a little. I never know what you are going to do. You're too strong for me to feel entirely safe around you, too unpredictable."

"It's what I pride myself on," Sabretooth said with a grin.

"That said, I enjoy spending time with you. Well, sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"You put me in situations where I feel vulnerable. I don't like that."

"I could say the same about you."

"What do you mean by that?" Mortimer asked, startled into looking up. He tried to capture the other's eyes, but he was looking away, opening another beer. Mortimer had no idea where it came from.

"Save it for your next question," Victor said, growling under his breath.

"No, please?" Mortimer said, taking the cards to shuffle them.

"The big, bad Sabretooth admitting he gives a fuck about someone. It doesn't help my image, and someone could take advantage of it." The words held no emotion, the brute forcing it back down.

"It doesn't make you look weak to care about someone."

"Yes, it does," Sabretooth said with a quirked brow. He downed the nearly full beer and tossed the can to the floor. "And I don't care, I just don't want you to die. I couldn't possibly care about someone weak enough to try to take their own life."

"Yet I could care about someone who points out my shortcomings," Mortimer muttered. He bridge-shuffled, then splayed the cards on the bed. He picked them up and did it again before Sabretooth spoke.

"I know how you are, runt. I've seen the way you interact with the boss. You do anything for those half-assed compliments. You know he's using you, yet you do whatever he wants you to, anyway."

"I meant you."

"I know. I was ignoring that. The whole point of this game was to get that stick out of your ass long enough for you to talk to me about things that make you all squirmy and shit."

"Why, though?" Mortimer dropped the cards to the bed from about two feet above it. He watched as they spread out, then proceeded to pick them all up.

"What do you mean 'why'? Do I need a reason?"

"Usually," Toad responded, setting up a game of solitaire for himself.

"Would it be an acceptable answer ta say I'm curious?" Victor asked, leaning back. He pulled the chips closer to himself and ate a handful.

"It's as good an answer as any, I suppose."

"At first, I just wanted to get high off of you. I still do. But, if you die, I couldn't do that anymore, and I do like your sense of humor. It's a bit dark."

"Well, when you're in a dark place-"

"Ya break out of it and get on with life," Sabretooth interrupted. "Ain't nothin' you can do, so why give a fuck?"

"I'm not strong enough to do that," Mortimer said, not taking his eyes from the game.

"Mentally or physically?"

"Both." He paused for a moment to look over his game. "Emotionally, too, I guess."

"That's a big 'no shit'." Victor leaned forward to point to a card that should be moved. Toad put it in its new spot without question. "You're sweating," the blonde pointed out.

"I'm nervous."

Without another word, Sabretooth shifted around to get up to his knees and lean forward. Mortimer was about to protest, as it was moving the cards, but he stopped when thick fingers pushed his bangs out of his face. Sabretooth swiped his tongue over the other's forehead, and Mortimer closed his eyes. He made a strangled sounding noise when Sabretooth cupped his head and pulled him closer, pressing their parted lips together.

Sabretooth grinned into the kiss when Mortimer whimpered and twisted his fingers in his own sweatpants. It was a slow, almost tedious thing- a soft press of lips, no tongue, all gentle suction and warm, moist skin and fat morphing to fit the other's- and Mortimer couldn't get enough. He sighed when Sabretooth pulled away.

He freed his hands from the cotton and opened his eyes to find Sabretooth pushing everything from the bed; trash, unopened snacks, his card game. He couldn't find it within himself to say anything once Victor was kissing him again.

The larger man pulled them both down on their sides, but tilted them so that it was clear that he would be dominating the interaction. But, Mortimer noticed, even as Sabretooth kissed and suckled along his jaw and neck, that it was different. He only had one other kiss to compare it to, but the older man was being mindful enough of his own power that even the slide of his rough tongue over his lips felt like a tender caress.

Mortimer hummed softly when the tongue breached his lips, feeling much less invaded than he thought he would. It was glorious, even tasted good when their tongues met. He wanted to touch Sabretooth, to feel him under his palms, wrapped around his torso, between his clothed thighs, but the fear of being accused of 'leading him on' at a later date kept him docile. He kept his hands to himself, didn't even try to touch the other's hair as he'd been doing recently.

"Okay?" Sabretooth growled as he pulled back.

"Yeah," Mortimer breathed. "I just don't want to owe you anything," he said, gasping when he realized the words had come out.

"I don't know what else I can do to convince you that I'm not going to hurt you or force you into anything."

"I don't- I didn't- shit, I'm sorry," Mortimer muttered. Sabretooth lay back, still cradling Toad's head with the arm under his neck. "I don't want this to stop."

"Then take what you want."

"What?"

"I'm a little buzzed and feeling lazy." As if that summarized it. "I kinda wanna jack off, too, but you're layin' on the arm I do that with."

Mortimer quickly sat up. He looked down the length of Sabretooth's body. He felt his face heat at the bulge in his shorts, the way the flap was held open by his erection giving the brunette a peek at dirty blonde curls and rosy skin. And those thighs - Mortimer gulped - he wanted to touch them and feel the dramatic curves of his well-defined muscles. When he did reach out with his fingertips, he was impressed by just how hard they were, and explored the creases, the almost-soft hair. He wound up pushing the legs of the boxers up, so he could try to wrap his long fingers around one thick limb. They didn't come close to touching.

Jealousy flared briefly at just how normal the other's legs looked as Sabretooth spread his thighs. It was only accentuated by the fact that he knew just how powerful they were. He took a bit of comfort in the fact that his own legs were stronger, at least when jumping or kicking straight out, and far more flexible than the bulk under his palms.

"Jesus fuck. What are you doing?" Sabretooth panted. Mortimer pulled away, mortified. "I didn't say stop."

After a moment's hesitation, Toad got his feet under him and crawled up the bed to straddle the blonde, bracing himself with his hands on either side of his head. Sabretooth growled at the lack of contact and jerked his hips up, trying to get some friction, but Mortimer stayed out of reach. He pressed his parted lips to Victor's.

Moaning into the lip lock, Sabretooth moved his hand between them. When Mortimer tensed, he found his lower lip bitten, being gnawed on in such a way that he couldn't pull back. He didn't feel anything, other than the harsh bite, but he could see the blonde's shoulder working. He was-

"Oh. Oh," Toad said, then hissed, running his tongue over his bottom lip. That was certainly flattering.

"Touch me." It was breathy, but still an order.

"Where?"

"Fuck, anywhere. 'M close."

"Don't last very long, do you?"

"F-" Sabretooth started to growl an insult, but was cut off by a mouthful of a thick, wet, insistent tongue. Long fingers tangled in his hair and Victor forgot any anger he may have had when those well-kept nails scratched at his scalp and maneuvered his head for the perfect penetration. Sabretooth wrapped his free arm around Mortimer's middle, trailing his fingers along the waistband of the younger man's sweatpants.

"Ah," Mortimer gasped, pulling back for a breath, his tongue still wrapped around Sabretooth's. He brought both hands down over his neck and shoulders. He left one resting on the jerking shoulder, the motion a constant reminder of what he'd reduced the brute to. Sabretooth's lips sealed around his tongue and he sucked, and Toad moaned, drawing his other hand down over Sabretooth's clothed torso.

After a few minutes of Mortimer's petting and kissing, Sabretooth bit down on the greenish-pink intruder in his mouth and went stiff. The bite wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Bird bones and insect shells had been worse. Toad watched Victor's face through his pleasure; his wrinkled nose, his creased brow, the sigh of completion through flared nostrils. When the vice around the muscle in Victor's mouth relaxed, Toad pulled his tongue back and watched those boxy features soften.

Post-orgasmic bliss Sabretooth was very handsome. Much less terrifying, Mortimer noted. He even made the quietest appreciative noises as Toad brought his hands to his face to feel out the soft cheeks and the sharp whiskers. He raked his nails through blonde hair and smiled at the other's near-purring. He still had his arm wrapped firmly around the hovering body's waist, and didn't seem too keen on letting go any time soon.

"You want anything?" Sabretooth drawled.

At the question, Mortimer realized that, even through the terror and uncertainty he felt through the situation, he was half hard and still growing, slowly. "Um," he said, shifting his hips, looking down at his sweatpants and the slight bulge in them. When he pulled back, it couldn't be seen anymore. "I don't know if-"

"I can jerk you off while we kiss."

"You'd do that?"

"As long as I don't have to move too much. I'm feeling lazy."

"You really are a big cat, aren't you?" Mortimer said with a quiet chuckle.

"I guess that makes you a cat-kisser, then. Come here, you freak," Sabretooth said, pushing Mortimer's sweatpants down with the hand at his back. He slid his hand down over one firm cheek, then down between them.

"Wait-don't-" Mortimer gasped, tangling one set of fingers in the long sideburns.

"Not gonna, just want to feel," Sabretooth said, reaching even further to brush the ends of his nails against the other's testicles. "Give me your mouth."

So he did. With a jerky motion, Toad took the others lips, attempting to suck them in his mouth, it seemed. Sabretooth chuckled and took hold of Mortimer's now bare hips, pulling him close. The brunette whined and pressed his tongue against the seal of the other's lips. Victor sucked the appendage into his mouth while maneuvering his hand between them so he could lift his shirt.

Mortimer cried out at the hands on his lower back, pulling him down to rut against the surprisingly soft stomach, the hair there making for an interesting sensation.

"I thought," Toad panted against Sabretooth's cheek, "I thought you were going to jerk me off?"

"Would you prefer that?"

"No. I mean, this is fine," was the answer, punctuated by a few cautious thrusts. Mortimer mouthed at the corner of Sabretooth's lips, and even bit at his cheek.

The blonde chuckled and drew his nails up the other's back, reveling in the shiver it caused. Once more, they kissed. It grew nearly unbearable with Toad's tongue stuffed in his mouth, touching and tasting places one normally couldn't reach, his thrusting against the blonde becoming frantic. Sabretooth growled his assent to Mortimer's quickly approaching orgasm.

The brunette whined into the other's mouth as his seed slicked his thrusts against the warm belly. When he went lax, Sabretooth held him up by his hips, earning a whimper when it prevented him from thrusting lazily. He buried his face in the thick neck and blonde curls to wait out waves of pleasure.

"You good?"

"Yeah," Mortimer answered, pulling his pants up and slumping to his side. He curled up against Sabretooth, and watched through half-lidded eyes as the brute ran a finger through the mess on his stomach.

He brought it to his lips and sucked it clean. Then made the most hilarious face Toad had ever seen him make.

"That's fucking awful. Do you cum acid?" Sabretooth complained.

"You didn't have to put it in your mouth, love."

"I want to see if it's anything like your sweat."

"Uhn," Mortimer groaned against the thick shoulder his cheek rested against. "Shower?"

Sabretooth made a sound of protest.

"I don't want to have to change the sheets yet."

"Fine," Victor grumbled with an overdramatic roll of his eyes.

"And I kinda wanna wash and brush your hair," Mortimer admitted quietly.

"You are not going to domesticate me."

"That's not my intent."

"Mmhm," Victor hummed sarcastically, but pulled himself to his feet anyway. He stretched lazily. "Well, c'mon," he said, dropping his shorts and peeling off his shirt.

Mortimer followed just as sluggishly, chin ducked to his chest to hide his small smile.

In the shower, Sabretooth groused through leaning over to allow Toad to wash his hair. But he wound up enjoying the massage. He didn't want it to end as the other tilted his head back to rinse it out. Then Mortimer offered conditioner. Victor accepted just for the chance of another scratch.

Sabretooth returned the favor, forcefully, even through the other's loud protesting. Victor simply smirked and rubbed harder, watching bubbles and light purple liquid soap run down Mortimer's neck, over the slight hump of his back, and shook off the silly urge to nip at the other's freckles.

"Hey, is my door locked?" Mortimer asked as he half-watched Sabretooth dry off behind him in the mirror, pretending to be fussing over his own eyebrows.

"I think so. Why?"

"I prefer to air-dry," he admitted, taking a towel to his hair briefly.

"I can check," the blonde grunted, leaving the humid room. "Yeah," he called out.

Toad came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He gathered up their discarded clothes and put them next to the bedside stand, moved the shoes next to the door. Sabretooth snorted.

"I'm surprised you didn't fold them," he said.

"They're dirty," Mortimer reasoned.

"Good point. Back to sleep for a few hours?" Sabretooth asked, holding out an arm. The gesture made Mortimer smile. He wanted to jump into the other's embrace and snuggle, even if he wasn't sleepy. Instead, he restrained himself.

"As soon as I dry off a bit, yeah."

Sabretooth grunted and laid back. Mortimer couldn't bring himself to care that the giant, feral cat-like man was getting his pillows and comforter wet. Victor was dozing by the time Mortimer crawled into bed with him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely new content! Posted here first!
> 
> This chapter contains some violence and otherwise questionable content.

When Mortimer woke up, he thought he’d dreamed up the events of the previous night. That was, until he groggily climbed out of bed and stepped on the plastic wrapping of one of the snacks from the previous night. It stuck and he groused to himself as he lifted his foot to pull it off, but he soon found himself smiling. He picked up the trash, letting out happy sighs in the process. When he heard himself, his face heated and he bit his tongue. He told himself that he was getting too engrossed in this undefined thing with Sabretooth as he put the playing cards back in their box, and sat the box on his bedside stand. 

Whatever they had, he knew- or, told himself- was very fragile. Sabretooth had openly told him that it wasn’t love; that he would never love him, and that was something Mortimer certainly knew that he needed. He didn’t think that he was capable of fooling himself into believing that the blonde brute loved him. Then again, he thought to himself as he scratched his left arm nervously, he’d spent years under Magneto’s thumb, believing the boss-man thought of him as a son. He shook his head dramatically as he looked at the clock. He had just over an hour until he needed to meet with Pyro and Mystique to make adjustments to the newbie’s accelerant dispenser. 

He didn’t see Sabretooth at all that day, or the next, but figuring out the system for Pyro, and other tasks that Mystique delegated to him, kept him busy. He even managed to meet up with Pietro on the second day of Sabretooth’s absence for a brief sparring session that mostly consisted of the younger man speeding by, tripping and pushing him until he lashed out with his tongue and tripped up the silver-haired youth. No longer winning, the brat made excuses and sped away.

A third, fourth and fifth day without his, what - friend? - had him restless. On that fifth day, he hit the gym with a fervor, clipping his nails and tearing up a speed bag. Freddy wandered in as he loaded the rack for the bench press with several forty-five pound weights. The other interrupted Mortimer’s train of thought that had been dwelling on why Sabretooth hadn’t told him he’d been leaving. 

“Hey,” the bigger man greeted.

“Hello,” Mortimer answered, laying down and gripping the bar, his eyes focused on it.

“Need a spot?” Blob asked, setting up the leg press for himself.

“No,” Mortimer said, grunting as he unhooked the bar and lowered it to his chest. “Thanks, though,” he grit out as he pushed the heavy weights up.

Freddy watched for a moment with a deep frown on his face before sitting in the reinforced steel machine. “You alright?” he asked as he released the lock on the machine, pushing out with his legs.

“Yeah. Hnn,” Toad grunted, squinting at the effort of lifting and talking at the same time. “Why do you ask?”

“Sabretooth has been on a mission for a while, and you’ve been working really hard since he left,” the taller man supplied, effortlessly talking as he lifted.

“Oh, he’s on a- hhn- mission, is he?” Toad said. He took a deep breath to steady himself before he resumed lifting, trying not to think about the blonde.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know that. You’ve been pushing yourself to exhaustion in his absence.”

“It’s who I am, m-mate,” the brunette ground out. 

“It worries me,” Fred muttered.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to hurt yourself,” Blob answered with a sigh, putting the lock on the machine back in place.

“That ship has already sailed.”

“Morty,” Blob said, sounding exasperated.

“Freddy,” Toad answered in the same manner, though he smirked a bit.

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m fine,” Mortimer answered, struggling to fully extend.

“I don’t think you are,” Fred accused, crossing his arms. He leaned back in the machine and watched Mortimer force out another two reps. 

The brunette racked the weights and sighed. He sat up and grabbed a hand towel from the floor to wipe his forehead with. He pushed his hair back, raking his short nails through his then chin-length hair, over his sweat moistened scalp. He gulped down half of a bottle of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm before responding to his friend;

“Why? Because I like being busy?”

“Because you have to be busy or you get really depressed and agitated.”

“A lot of people are like that, Freddy,” Toad said, leaning forward. He rested his weight on his overworked arms and they quivered with the effort. 

“Not like you,” the other said, sighing through his nose.

“What do you want from me?” Mortimer asked, looking up at the other. Blob sat forward and his mouth became a thin line as he thought of how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“I’d like you to find someone to fuck other than Sabretooth.”

“For the love of-!” Mortimer jumped up, ready to rage, but stopped himself and ran his hands over his face. “I am not fucking Sabretooth. We’re not having sex. I don’t have sex, okay? Jesus,” he said with a groan, tipping his head back.

“Why not?” Blob asked, suddenly less concerned and a whole lot more curious. 

“Because I don’t really like sex, alright?” Mortimer wandered over to a pull-down machine. He adjusted the weight pin and sat down with his back to Fred.

“But sex is awesome,” Fred marveled, blinking slowly. “How can you not like- Oh my god,” he breathed quietly. “You were raped, weren’t you?” he asked quietly.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Toad gasped, letting up on the bar he’d pulled down. “No, I wasn’t. Aren’t I allowed to just not like the idea of putting my dick in a dark hole?”

“I guess so,” Fred said, though he sounded a bit confused about the statement. “But, it feels so good. Are you, um,” he stumbled, looking for a word.

“No, I’m not asexual. Well, I might be, depending on your definition,” Toad supplied with a chuckle, and went back to his pull-downs.

“Well, if you don’t like sex, I’d say you’re asexual,” the taller man said, getting up from the leg press. He shuffled around, trying to decide on another machine.

“If you define sex as ‘insert-rod-A-into-slot-B’, then yeah. But I still like kissing and having my dick touched and all that,” the shorter man answered bluntly.

“So,” Blob trailed off for a moment, “are you and Sabretooth jerking each other off?”

Toad groaned in an over-exaggerated fashion and Blob couldn’t help chuckling.

“Why are you so interested in my sex life?”

“I dunno. It’s weird, I guess,” was the answer, though it was good-natured.

“Mate, I am the textbook definition of ‘weird’. If you look up that word in the dictionary, all you’ll see is a picture of me,” Toad answered with a grin.

“Then, can you really blame me for being curious?”

“I guess not, but whatever I have going on with Sabretooth is between he and I and no one else.”

“Yeah, but it worries your friends.”

“What friends?”

“Me.”

“You don’t need to be worried,” Toad said, returning to his pull-downs once more.

“Sabretooth is a brute. You could do so much better.”

Toad sighed and did a few more reps before letting the bar go and just sitting there.

“I really can’t,” Toad said. “I’m lucky that I have this weird friends-with-benefits thing going on with Sabretooth. I mean, look at me. I’m fucking green, mate. The only people that would be interested in me are freaks that want to fuck a freak, and I’m not down with that.”

“That’s not true, Morty,” Blob tried to reason. “You’re intelligent and funny and kind,” he trailed off with a sigh.

“Sounds almost like you’ve got a crush on me,” Mortimer teased, hiding his growing disgust with their conversation with humor.

“I’m straight, Mort.”

“I was joking, Fred,” Toad said and rolled his eyes.

“But, I mean you could find a nice lady, or gentleman, whatever, who would appreciate you. Start a family, adopt some orphaned mutants or something. I think you’d be a great dad.”

Mortimer’s brow nearly met his hairline and he turned to look at Blob.

“You, sir, are crazy. I would be a terrible father. Not to mention I couldn’t do that to a woman. The thought is disgusting to me.”

“What? Childbirth is a miracle, Morty.” At the dreamy look on Blob’s face, as he put on some gloves to take to the heavy bag, the brunette imagined his fat friend in a field of flowers with some heavily pregnant blonde woman in a sun dress. They had two smaller, plump munchkins running around in the tall vegetation, throwing a bright red ball back and forth. His lip curled up in disgust at the thought and he snorted, rolling his eyes. “What?”

“Oh nothing. You’re a sap. It’s gross, in my opinion. All that horrible shit it does to a woman’s body, all the things that can go wrong,” he gagged and shuddered.

“You read about those rare happenings too much. Those things aren’t guaranteed to happen. Besides, you don’t have to make your own. You could adopt. I would really like to have kids one day. Maybe not soon, but soon-ish.”

“I can see you with lots of little brats,” Mortimer groused almost fondly, and Fred smiled in response. “But, I just don’t want that. Not now, and maybe not ever. I don’t think I have the fathering instinct. But I don’t think the inability to have and/or raise kids is the reason you’re harassing me about my maybe-maybe-not relationship with Sabretooth.”

Blob gave the punching bag a few solid hits, still smiling a bit. 

“You’re right, it’s not,” Blob finally answered. Mortimer grabbed a couple of hand weights as he waited for Fred to continue. “I think your relationship with him is another one of those whatchamacallits you have. Uh, self-destructive behaviors.” Mortimer snorted at that idea. “I’m serious,” Fred said, frowning again. 

“I know you are. It’s cute.”

“Morty,” Fred sighed out. “You drink too much when you drink, you take pills you don’t need to be taking, you’re always tearing up your arm, you let people beat on you so you can feel useful,” he trailed off for a moment, steadying the bag. “It’s not healthy. Oh, and you don’t eat enough. Like, ever.”

“I eat enough!” Mortimer spat defensively. “Just because my stomach can’t handle as much as you six-foot, two-hundred pound plus guys doesn’t mean I don’t eat enough.” He huffed as he extended his arm with the weight. “I’m starting to get tired of being harassed about not eating when I know my limits.”

“Fine,” Fred said with an eye roll. “But what about those other things?”

“The point of drinking is to get drunk, I also know my limits when it comes to getting high off of pills - that’s why I use pills instead of other things, the arm thing is a nervous habit and,” Mortimer trailed off for a moment, looking deep in thought as he managed a few more reps and switched exercises, “and I don’t have an excuse for that last thing, but so what? It’s part of my personality. I mean, do you really think I’d have been called ‘Toad’ if I hadn’t been such a toadie at the start? No, I’d probably be called ‘Frog’ or something. But, I have to say I like ‘Toad’ better than ‘Frog’.”

“Me too,” the bigger man answered, shucking the gloves. “’Frog’ doesn’t really have the capability of striking fear into the hearts of those who don’t have a phobia,” he said and chuckled. 

“Neither does ‘Toad’, really, but it sounds cooler,” Mortimer said with a shrug. “Anyway!” he practically announced, returning the weights to their racks, “I’m gonna go get cleaned up and see if someone has started dinner. See if I can help, or if I need to start it.”

“Morty,” Fred said with a quiet sigh.

“I’m only going to say this once; No. I am not using Sabretooth as an excuse to hurt myself or whatever, okay? I actually kind of like him. I’m not fooling myself into thinking that the relationship will go somewhere, but,” he sighed, “I like what we have right now. It works.”

“If you say so. Just be careful.”

“I’m always careful.” With that, Toad picked up his towel and water bottle and headed off to the locker room. 

At his locker, Toad finished off his water and threw the bottle in the empty space inside. He started near violently when a large hand planted itself on the lockers beside his head. A firm body pushed up against him, effectively pinning him to the lockers. A rough tongue sought out his neck, a large nose pushed his hair out of the way as the brute growl-purred quietly.

“Fuck, mate. Warn a guy,” Toad mumbled, unconsciously tilting his head to give the other better access to his neck. One of Sabretooth’s hands found his way to the smaller man’s sharp hip and gripped it, surprisingly gently. His other moved from the lockers to tangle in sweaty locks and gently tugged, pulling Mortimer’s head back even further. “Hey,” the brunette whined as Sabretooth pressed his groin against his short-clad rear, already half-hard and slowly rocking against him. “Not here.”

“I’ve missed this,” Sabretooth growled, giving a nip right under Mortimer’s ear. “So good,” he purred. He let out an amused chuckle and Mortimer shivered. 

“C’mon, mate. Stop,” Toad whined.

“You’re growing your hair out because of what I said about your bowl cut, aren’t you?”

Toad gasped quietly and squirmed, trying to pull away, but Victor’s grip was tight.

Sabretooth’s chuckling was interrupted when he jerked violently and pulled away. He snarled. When Mortimer turned around, he looked up at a side view of a very angry Sabretooth facing down an equally angry Blob.

“What the fuck was that for, fatass?” Sabretooth spat, his claws lengthening and his lip turned up to reveal his sharp canines.

“He said ‘stop’,” Fred stated.

Mortimer opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Sabretooth barking;

“He’s fine. He’d have let me know if he really didn’t want it. You’d know something about the intricacies of negotiation if you ever got any, bitch.”

Mortimer lifted his hand as if he wanted to say something, but was ignored.

“Fuck off, you puss. Maybe someone should teach you what ‘stop’ means.” Fred pulled his arm back, making a fist.

“Bring it, bitch,” Sabretooth hissed. 

The blonde lunged for the man with the dyed mohawk, claws ready to dig into Blob’s guts, not hearing Mortimer’s cry of “Wait!”

Both bigger men gasped when Sabretooth found himself with his claws buried in Toad’s fleshy stomach. He yanked his hand back and dropped to his knees, shredding Mortimer’s shirt without a thought. Blob pushed Sabretooth out of the way to look at the wound, pulling the shorter brunette to him. Toad reared back and took a deep breath. He pulled himself away from the two pairs of meaty hands pawing at him and hocked a wad of sticky mucus at both of their faces. Their mouths were effectively sealed by the hardening mass.

Pressing his hand to his stomach, he spoke;

“Stop this bullshit. I’m a fucking adult and I can make my own damn decisions and I can speak for myself. I don’t want either of you fucking talking to me until you stop treating me like a child or a possession.” 

He left the two staring after him, storming out of the gym without bothering to clean his wound or even put on a shirt. He stomped all the way to his room, ignoring Quicksilver, who gaped at him as he passed. 

In his room, Mortimer hopped a quick shower and bandaged the wound, even though he figured he didn’t really need an antiseptic or bandages due to his healing factor. It wasn’t as fast-acting as Sabretooth’s, and the wounds would stick around for a few days, perhaps even tearing open and bleeding slightly if he did too much, but he figured it would be fine, since the other two would surely avoid him after his outburst.

Clean and mostly dry, he laid back on his bed, not even bothering to shut the door to the hall. He lounged in only a pair of sweatpants, staring up at the ceiling. He gave an exasperated sigh and looked toward the doorway when he head knuckles rapping on the frame. There stood Sabretooth, his mouth long cleaned of the adhesive-like mucus Toad spat. He leaned against the doorframe and silently watched Toad.

“I thought I told you that I didn’t want to hear from you for a while?”

Without a word, Sabretooth strode over to Mortimer, who sat up and glared at the blonde. Victor sank to his knees and put his hands, his claws still long, but cleaned of the brunette’s blood, on Mortimer’s sides. He leaned forward and nuzzled at the bandages, giving a gentle, almost careful, delicate lick to the green skin above the bandages. He looked up at Mortimer’s shocked expression and frowned. Still silent, he stood up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

After a long moment of staring at the closed door, Mortimer groaned.

“I am so fucked.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Oh my god,” Mystique growled, rounding on the young man that was following hot on her heels. He jumped back when she loomed over him. “No, Toad! I don’t have anything else for you to do! Don’t you have something you could be doing other than following me?”

“Not really,” the brunette admitted sheepishly, scratching his left cheek nervously. “Oh, hey! I could do your laundry!” he offered.

“Do I look like someone who needs clothes?” Mystique asked, shifting through different common forms she took, clothes shifting with the changes of her body.

“No, I guess not,” Mortimer said, pouting. “You don’t have any grunt work you can push off on me? None?” Mortimer prodded. 

“For once, no. I’m about to leave the island, so I have to get ready and I can’t find something for you to do right now.”

“Ooh, how are you leaving? If you’re taking a plane, I could make sure it’s clean and fueled and stocked with your favorite snacks,” he offered.

“It’s already been taken care of,” she bit out, trying not to clench her fists. “Why don’t you go bother your boyfriend instead of me?”

“B-boyfriend?” Toad stammered.

“Sabretooth.”

“He is not my boyfriend, Jesus Christ!” 

“Look,” Mystique said, taking her blue form again. She reached out and put her hand on Mortimer’s no-longer-bony shoulder. “You’re my friend, but you get on my nerves sometimes. A lot of times, actually. I’m only saying this because I care about you and don’t want to kill you; Leave me alone. When I want you, I’ll find you.” She turned and walked away, leaving the younger man in a stunned silence.

Toad wandered the halls of the main building’s living quarters for a while, looking for something to do. He picked up trash and dirty clothes as he walked, depositing the items he picked up in their proper receptacles. He passed a few new mutants he didn’t know, but his recently resurfacing social anxiety kept him from doing more than nodding in acknowledgement and hurrying on. 

An hour later, Mortimer found himself wandering by the kitchen. Hearing a familiar voice, one that belonged to his only self-proclaimed friend, he kept moving- not quite ready to face the other after the previous day’s confrontation. His stomach growled, but he refused to turn back. He headed back to his room to reread one of the novels in his bedside stand.

A third of the way into his seventh time reading the book in his hands, Mortimer found his mind wandering. He was disgusted with his pondering of what Sabretooth was doing, but couldn’t shake his curiosity. He put his lack of self-control up to the gut-gnawing hunger he felt, and resolved himself to slip into the kitchen and get a snack. He put the book back in the drawer and took a deep breath; steeling himself to face potential conflict. A slight wave of dizziness overcame him when he stood, but passed quickly enough and he left, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Halfway down the hall, another wave of dizziness took Mortimer by surprise and he braced himself on the wall with one arm, squinting against it. He pushed away from the wall and continued his journey. 

Near the stairs, he stumbled. A strong hand caught him by his bicep and yanked him upright. Toad turned to lash out at the stranger, but wound up pressed against a firm chest. He sighed into white cotton and waited out a bout of nausea. He let out an undignified yelp when Sabretooth threw him over his shoulder and carried him down the stairs. He fought weakly the entire way to the dining room.

The blonde sat him down in a chair none-too-gently. He pushed a takeout container before the smaller man and sat in a nearby chair, growling quietly. Mortimer glared at the food instead of picking it up like he longed to do. 

“I thought I said-“

“I know what you said, brat,” Sabretooth interrupted. “Just eat.”

Mortimer huffed and glared for a moment longer before taking the container, and fork that stuck out of it, and ate a sweet spiced meat and rice. Sabretooth tapped his nails on the long, wooden table and listened with pink-tinted ears as Mortimer groaned and praised the food. Once finished, the brunette sat the container aside and turned to Sabretooth. He watched the older man refuse to look at him and sighed.

“So,” Mortimer started, but was interrupted by the blonde standing up suddenly, knocking the chair away. He watched with parted lips as Sabretooth stormed out of the room. “What the hell?” Mortimer muttered to himself.

Toad busied himself with tidying the kitchen and dining room, feeling much better after eating. At one point, Blob wandered in and apologized to Mortimer, who accepted simply out of a desire not to be around other people at that moment. He protested loudly as the bigger man pulled him into a hug, but went limp and begrudgingly accepted the affection.

“Seriously, Morty,” Fred said, rubbing chubby hands up and down the smaller man’s back. 

“I know, I know. Now get off, dude,” Toad groused.

When Blob pulled away he found that Mortimer’s wounds had opened and bled through his shirt.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blob muttered, his brow creased.

“No, it’s fine. I needed to change the bandages anyway.” The brunette sighed and pried his shirt from the wounds, holding it out. “Seriously, it’s ok. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I might hold you to that,” Mortimer said as he walked away, giving his friend a small smile as he did so.

Back up the stairs, in his room, Toad removed his bandages carefully. He figured the wounds had torn open when Sabretooth had thrown him over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he heard from the bathroom doorway. Mortimer sighed dramatically.

“I kinda want to be alone at the moment,” Mortimer answered, tossing the bloody bandages in the garbage.

“I know,” Victor said.

“Then why are you here, mate?”

Without a word, Sabretooth stepped forward and dropped to his knees, holding the other’s hips tightly.

“Wha- H-hey!” the brunette gasped out as the other’s rough tongue laved over his wounds. “That- ah, that feels so weird,” Mortimer gasped, threading his fingers in blonde curls. He found himself pressing forward into the gentle licking, squirming at the tingling sensation it was causing. “Wh-Why are you doing that?”

Sabretooth seemed to purr quietly for a moment before responding;

“You’re not the only one with unique spit.”

“What?” the younger man asked as Sabretooth stood and licked his lips. Instead of responding, Sabretooth ran his fingers over the freshly healed skin of Mortimer’s stomach, smudging drying blood and scratching slightly with his nails. Mortimer shivered and grabbed on to Sabretooth’s biceps as the taller man pushed him back against the sink. “Oh! H-hey,” Mortimer trailed off as meaty paws moved up his sides and over his ribs slowly, as if counting them. The thick hands moved back down and the larger body pressed in close, nuzzling his furry jawline against Mortimer’s cheek.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to not treat you like a possession, because you’re mine,” Sabretooth growled in the other’s ear. 

Mortimer shivered and wrapped his arms around Victor’s shoulders. The blonde lifted the other onto the edge of the sink and pushed himself between strong, lean legs. He rested his forehead against Sabretooth’s, momentarily surprised that the other let him. The brunette closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“God, you’re so stupid,” Mortimer said with a sad, little laugh. Before Sabretooth could let out an angry retort, he continued; “But it’s ok, because I am too.  
  
“I’m so fucking stupid that I’m falling in love with a brute that might not even be capable of feeling emotions other than anger and schadenfreude, and I’m perfectly alright with it.” Toad dug his nails into Sabretooth’s back, blunt nails not tearing into the skin like he intended. 

“I’m perfectly capable of feeling love,” Sabretooth’s upper lip curled up in a display of disgust at the word, “jackass. I just don’t want to. It’s a pain in my ass.” There was a brief silence during which Toad pulled back just enough to look at the blonde in focus. “Not to mention you’ll die long before I do.”

“So that’s the real issue, is it?” Mortimer asked, sitting back a bit. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all’?”

“Yeah, and it’s a crock of shit,” Sabretooth griped. 

“I do have the healing factor, Sabretooth,” Mortimer put forward. “It’s not as good as yours, but I’ll live a lot longer than most will. If I get my ass in the lab, I could find a way to increase my own healing factor. We have the research, you know. We’ve taken all of the work from the labs we destroyed.

“Just think about it; we could travel the world together, long after the boss and everyone else is dead and gone, causing shit wherever we go,” Mortimer trailed off for a moment, letting out a quiet sigh. “I don’t mind riding bitch,” he said with a grin.

Sabretooth snorted in response, a grin splitting his features. It faded quickly.

“I don’t like thinking about things I can’t have, you brat.”

“Say my name,” Mortimer requested, wrapping his legs around Victor’s hips.

“Bootlicker,” Sabretooth teased.

“C’mon,” the brunette whined, tangling his fingers in knotted blonde strands.

“I thought you wanted to be alone?”

Toad whined again, pouting. Sabretooth rolled his eyes.

“Mortimer,” Sabretooth said simply. He raised a brow at the other’s seemingly unexplainably giddy expression; grinning, exposing sharp teeth, too-thin lips stretched even thinner. The blonde grunted and shook his head, pulling back from the counter. His hand on the other’s lower back brought Mortimer with him.

The two wound up tangled together on Mortimer’s bed, limbs wrapped up in each other’s, fingers in hair, on faces, anywhere they could reach. They shared tender kisses that Mortimer was sure Victor would deny to his last breath. The brunette gasped against Sabretooth’s lips when he felt the other’s stiffening length through worn jeans pressing against his thigh.

“Kinda can’t help that,” Sabretooth groused, taking Mortimer’s lips again before the smaller man had a chance to complain. He growled against the other’s lips when Mortimer started to push on his chest, scratching uselessly at the stained white cotton. “I’m not gonna make ya-“

“I know,” Toad gasped, sliding his hands up Sabretooth’s neck to cup his jaw and scratch the other’s facial hair. “I know.” He gave the other a quick kiss before pulling back. “Wanna do something for you.” 

“Yeah?” Victor asked, letting Mortimer push him to lay back. The blonde put his hands behind his head, his body arching up against the smaller man’s hands as they moved down his chest, smoothing out the white shirt. 

“Yeah. I’ve been kind of a moody bitch for the last week or so,” Mortimer offered, straddling Sabretooth’s legs.

“I’ll say,” the blonde teased, smirking.

“Shut up,” Mortimer said, slapping the larger man’s thigh. Sabretooth growled in response and spread his legs until Mortimer had to adjust his stance. “Like you’ve been any better.”

“I’m always me,” Sabretooth said, turning his nose up in a mocking manner. His lips parted when Mortimer palmed over his cock. He looked down at Mortimer, watching slender green fingers work open his fly. “What are you gonna do?” Sabretooth asked as the younger man freed his length from its confines.

“What’s it look like?” Mortimer asked, leaning over the other’s stiff prick. He opened his mouth and let his tongue slip out, slick and pink and long, and wrap around the head and part of the length he wasn’t holding. Sabretooth’s eyelids fluttered closed and he groaned, letting his head fall back. The wet muscle squeezed and slipped up and down Sabretooth’s organ, making the older man’s thighs tense, making his hips jerk slightly.

“Oh fuck,” Sabretooth gasped, his eyes opening wide. He panted as he watched Toad lean down, displaying his flexibility, taking him in his mouth. When Toad’s throat constricted around his prick as he swallowed, the blonde couldn’t resist threading one set of fingers in the other’s hair, pushing it out of his face. Toad hummed and Sabretooth’s free hand moved to the other’s back, gently raking his nails over the freckles he liked so much. The brunette moaned around the thick, leaking length and Sabretooth bucked his hips a bit. When he felt Mortimer’s throat relax, he started thrusting; fucking the other’s mouth.

It was a wet, sloppy thing- Mortimer drooling around the throbbing prick, getting the spit fucked out of him. He braced himself on Victor’s thighs and let the other take his own pleasure in ramming his throat raw. The brunette moaned, enjoying the way he was being petted, watching Sabretooth’s face twist in pleasure - his brow knit, gritting his teeth – growling.

“Yeah, yeah, like that. So good,” Sabretooth babbled, fingers tightening in brown locks. “Gonna- Unh,” he grunted, thrusting as deep as he could down Mortimer’s throat, holding the other’s head to his groin as he pulsed with his orgasm. Mortimer took it like a champ, swallowing around Sabretooth’s length and soothing him with his tongue.  
When the bigger man sagged back to the bed, Toad pulled back and licked his lips.

“God damn, bootlicker. I love your mouth,” Sabretooth groaned.

“If you were to only love one part of me, I would much rather it be my personality,” Toad said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Your mouth is part of your personality, you little shit,” Sabretooth said as he tucked himself away and shucked his boots and jeans. “Come up here,” he said, extending one arm in offer. The brunette curled up against Sabretooth, tucked neatly against the bigger man’s side, one hand resting on the flat, soft plane of the other’s cotton-clad chest. “Do you need anything?”

“Just this,” Mortimer said, tucking his face into the older man’s armpit and nuzzling. “Hey, uh, I’m sweating a bit if you wanted to, ya know.”

Sabretooth tilted his head toward Mortimer and gave his forehead a playful lick.

“I’m gonna take a nap, then I think we should go get something to eat,” Sabretooth said into the top of the smaller man’s head. Mortimer hummed happily in response. “It still stands that you’re not going to domesticate me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mortimer answered with a slight titter. “You’d lose your weird charm if I succeeded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're drawing in on a close here. I think we'll have one more chapter to wrap things up, then a short epilogue of sorts. So fifteen in total. It's a nice, satisfying number, I think.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think and also comment with any other Toad pairings you might like to see from me in the future. I'm currently working on a cutesy MagneToad, but that isn't really a pairing fic even though it kind of is. A friend has convinced me to take on the challenge of trying to pair Mr. Sinister and Toad in a realistic manner, but it will be a while before I figure that one out. I'd love suggestions on tings to work on in the meantime!


	14. Chapter 14

Over the next few weeks, the tension between Sabretooth and Blob started to dissipate. As Mortimer’s mood improved, so did Freddy’s. The two taller men could manage a breakfast together without growling threats at one another, and Quicksilver once more started hanging around with them. The brat had a bad habit of egging Sabretooth on, but the blonde, drunk on Mortimer’s sweat and his renewed feelings, rarely reacted. Mystique came ‘home’ to celebrate a few birthdays before leaving again.

At one of those parties, Pyro sidled up to Toad.

“So, ah you ‘n the furball fuckin’?” the blonde asked when he thought the bigger blonde was out of earshot.

Toad reared back and made to lash out with his usual speech, but when his maybe lover man turned and smirked at him over the rim of a Dixie cup, the brunette changed his mind.

“Ya know what? Yeah. Yeah, we are. It’s fuckin’ great, mate.” Mortimer said, nearly moaning. Other than Sabretooth, only Mystique could tell that he was bullshitting, but she simply rolled her eyes. She then tuned in to the conversation, curious as to what he would say. “Huge,” he exaggerated, holding his hands about a foot apart, “prick. Fills me up so good. We go at it every night like rabbits and he cums buckets.” Mystique covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles, and Sabretooth accidentally blew bubbles in his drink with his sudden laughter. “I feel so empty without him in me and I’m always, always craving it when I don’t have it.”

“Alright, Toad, that’s enough,” Mystique said. “I’m going to have to cover the poor boy’s ears,” and her comment wasn’t completely uncalled for as Pyro looked scandalized. 

“Yeah, man, TMI,” Pyro said, tipping back his cup.

“I’m so happy for you, Morty,” Blob said, scooping up the shorter man. Toad struggled against his grip, and the young mutant woman Fred was dating – a blonde, Mortimer called it – chuckled heartily. He sagged, not bothering to correct the other. Sabretooth chuckled at the goings on.

“You owe me fifty bucks,” Pietro said, his voice next to them before his form.

“Oh damn, I do,” Blob said, setting Mortimer on his feet. He dug in his jean shorts for his wallet.

“You were betting on my sex life?!” Mortimer gasped, taking his turn to look scandalized. 

“Yeah,” Quicksilver answered, pocketing the bills he was handed. “I knew you were bouncing on his dick since that night at the therapy center.”

Pyro pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his shades up.

“Wat! I wasn’t- I didn’t even get along with him at that point!” Mortimer complained loudly.

“Hate sex can be good sometimes,” Mystique quipped. 

“Oh my gawd!” Mortimer cried out, throwing his hands up.

“Well, if you weren’t fucking then, when did you start?” Pietro asked.

“Two days ago,” Sabretooth supplied, deciding to get in on the game.

“Wow, two days and he’s already addicted?” the silver haired youth asked. He smirked devilishly. “Get it? A-dick-ted?” 

All those gathered around Mortimer groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” Mystique muttered with a shake of her head.

“So, how many times a night do you do it?” Pietro asked.

“Why do you care?!” Mortimer gasped, running his hands over his face.

“Five yesterday, six today,” Sabretooth said, sounding completely serious. “Wait, seven today. He jumped me in the kitchen. Wanted a quickie while the pancakes were cookin’.”

“Oh god, I am never eating again,” Pyro said, going pale.

“That didn’t happen! Dammit, Sabretooth!” Mortimer groused. He stuck out his lower lip and crossed his arms at the way the burly blonde grinned down at him. “You’re an asshole.”

Sabretooth put his free hand on Toad’s shoulder and leaned down to ‘whisper’, which was really more of speaking normally and pretending to whisper, in the smaller man’s ear;

“Shh. I’ll make it up to you with a good, hard dickin’ later.”

The brunette’s face and ears darkened with a blush and he shoved the blonde hard. He actually managed to make the older man stumble back, having built quite the muscle in the past few months.

Even Magneto had joined in the festivities for once.

“I will admit that I am a bit confused by this, ah, relationship,” he admitted as he strode up calmly, “but I am happy for the both of you.”

“I’m just going to go find a nice little hole somewhere to die in,” Mortimer groaned. 

Blob clapped him on the back and chuckled.

Eventually Mortimer was able to slip away and take a breather. Alone. He sighed irritably and drew in a deep breath. The next sigh he let out was a happy one, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” he heard and turned around to come face-to-chest with Sabretooth. He pressed his face into the red cotton and wrapped his arms around the other’s waist. “Hope that wasn’t too much on ya.”

“No, I just thought my face was going to explode in blood from how hard I was blushing.”

Sabretooth chuckled quietly and buried his face in long brown locks, taking a deep breath and just enjoying the contact for a moment. It was still a strange thing for Sabretooth, the affection, but he was slowly getting used to the other’s clingy nature. He cupped the younger man’s chin and tilted his head up. He gave Mortimer a toothy grin before pressing his lips to the other’s.

“Are you really going to make it up to me later?” Mortimer asked, reaching up to wrap his arms around Victor’s neck.

“Depends on what you want,” Sabretooth said, tossing his cup aside to take a hold of the smaller man’s hips.

“I want you to take me back to your room, throw me down on your bed and tongue-fuck my mouth,” Toad whispered, pressing himself against the other. “While you do that I want you to jerk me off.”

“I’ll do it if I can use your cum and put my dick between your thighs,” Sabretooth purred.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Say cheese!” Pietro’s annoying voice interrupted, followed by several flashes. 

He wound up with one picture of the two being affectionate with each other and several of Toad and Sabretooth turning on and chasing him, Quicksilver’s grinning, devious, blurred face in a few of the pictures as he fled.


	15. Chapter 15

“Come on,” Sabretooth groused, posed atop his motorcycle, decked out in a black and yellow racing jacket. “I’m burning gas here.”

“Just a minute,” Mortimer said, an awkwardly shaped hand-held machine in one hand, a single pink carnation in the other. He slowly moved the machine back and forth, looking for a result. When the screen displayed that it had found magnetic waves, Mortimer followed it to where it was the strongest. When he reached that point, he sat down and put the pink carnation on the ground in front of him. “We’re still fighting the good fight, boss,” he muttered, smiling. “Just in our own way.

“Fred and Tabitha’s granddaughter just had her second kid. Ashley and the baby daddy finally caved and they’re getting married in the fall. They found a nice little church that’s mutant-friendly that they’re going to have the ceremony in.” He sighed quietly and sat the machine aside. “It’s getting better, slowly but surely.

“I’m still, uh, with, I guess, Sabretooth. And no, I haven’t managed to domesticate him yet. He still can’t sit still. We’re constantly moving around and causing trouble. I’m sorry I haven’t been maintaining your monument thing as well as I used to. It’s been almost forty years and people still insist on desecrating it. But, hey, at least we were smart enough not to put the marker where your grave actually is. I shudder to think of what those hate groups would do to your body.” Mortimer went quiet for a moment. He knew that one day Erik’s body would decay and the magnetic readings would disappear, but he decided to cross that bridge when he came to it. He chuckled a bit at the next thought that popped into his head; “I’m starting to get a few gray hairs, and I’m only a hundred-thirty-nine. You always pulled off gray so well. I wish you were around to show me how.

“Well, Sabretooth is getting impatient,” he said, nearly yelling over the sound of the blonde’s bike’s engine being revved. “Until next time.”  
Picking up the machine, Mortimer hurried back over to Sabretooth. 

“Impatient ass,” he groused, pushing himself, in his sweater and sweatpants wearing glory, up against the larger man. Sabretooth reached out and wound his fingers in the brown locks that cascaded down the other’s back, pulling him close. He sniffed and growled quietly before lapping at Mortimer’s forehead.

“I’ll never understand the weird, sentimental shit you do. He’s dead, he can’t hear you.” He continued to lick along Mortimer’s forehead and moved down to his temple, then his cheek, stopping to speak against the corner of the other’s mouth; “but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t kinda cute.” Mortimer smiled in response and turned his mouth against Sabretooth’s to steal a kiss. “Every time is as good as the first,” Victor said, pupils dilated, a lazy smirk on his face. 

“You only keep me around because you’re addicted to me,” Mortimer teased.

“You don’t know how true that is,” Sabretooth purred. “And I don’t just mean your sweat.”

“Come on,” Mortimer said, giving the other a playful shove. Sabretooth grabbed on to the brunette’s now meaty bicep, pulling him close. Toad squirmed out of the other’s grip and climbed on the back of the bike, securing the machine he’d been using in a storage compartment on the bike. He wrapped his arms around Sabretooth. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Sorry for those who wanted butt sex. Mortimer didn't care for sex at the beginning, and I'm a fan of consistency, so he still didn't like it at the end. Fear not, new fans of the odd couple; in some other life, these two will get down 'n' dirty.
> 
> Stay tuned?
> 
> ~JOLT

**Author's Note:**

> This story is nearly complete over on my FF.n page, and will be edited and improved for posting here. If you notice any significant errors, please inform me.


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